


Spike: Guardian Angel of LA

by SLPnerd



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Original Character(s), POV First Person, POV Spike (BtVS), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 62,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLPnerd/pseuds/SLPnerd
Summary: Spike returns to Los Angeles to visit Buffy at her new apartment and meets her new roommate, Cat. But, his visit becomes a hassle when a good deed is caught on tape. Soon the whole city is looking for the man to thank. Or is it to blame? During this first person account, Spike struggles with his feelings for Buffy while also navigating through an unwanted adventure with both familiar and new adversaries.The story takes place after season 7 of Buffy and season 5 of Angel. Buffy knows Spike is alive. The story includes a few details from the comic books, such as Xander and Dawn's relationship, but storylines from the comic books have not occurred.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 30 chapter book-length story. Updates will be posted regularly, at least once per week.

Name’s Spike. No dog jokes, please. It’s not original, and I don’t like it. Besides, you don’t want to get on my bad side, me being a vampire and all. I got myself a soul a few years back, which makes me one of the good guys now. Most of the time, anyway. Long story short, I fell for a girl who didn’t much like what I was, so I changed. For her. Like a bloody idiot. She liked me a bit more after that, but she never felt for me the way I felt for her. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.

These days, Buffy and I have gotten pretty good at this “friend” thing. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s true. Very platonic feelings all around. Her friends like me too, for the most part. I’ll join in with the Scoobies for holidays or birthdays on occasion. I tend to avoid visits when a certain other vampire with a soul is around. He’s not a fan. No harm done though, ‘cause I don’t much care for him either. Angel and I weren’t the best of friends before I hooked up with the Slayer, so when she and I had whatever it was that we had, Angel’s dislike for me multiplied. Again, I don’t care. Feeling’s mutual.

Buffy calls me up from time to time when she needs more muscle, like when some team of baddies come into town. She’s more than capable of taking down a handful of black hats herself, but she’s learned it’s good to have someone you trust watching your back. That would be me. Lately though, she hasn’t needed much help. Buffy’s been focusing on her schooling rather than slaying. She decided to finish her degree since there were more Chosen Ones running about to take care of vampires and demons. So, Buffy enrolled at UCLA.

I was in Cleveland for a few months when Buffy first started back to school. Willow and I went out there to help Faith, slayer #2, take out a particularly nasty bunch of Allu demons. I don’t make a habit of befriending slayers, especially the short-tempered ex-con variety, but I pitched in anyway. Willow has a hard time saying “no” when someone asks for help, and I owed Will a favor. It was hard to track down the hoard of dream eaters since the Allu were disguised as staffers at local sleep study centers. Still, we got them. Eventually. No wonder Faith picked up the phone. Looking back, it had to be hard for her. She doesn’t like to ask for help any more than I do.

Unlike Faith, Willow is one of Buffy’s best friends. Looking at Will, you would think she’s just a sweet little redhead who fancies the ladies, but she’s actually a ridiculously strong witch. In fact, she’s probably the most powerful of the whole group. She’s a good witch these days, but she can be dangerous. In fact, Red nearly destroyed the world once when her girlfriend got killed. I don’t really know the full story on that one. She and the Scoobies don’t fancy talking about it much. I wasn’t around then, seeing as I was busy getting a soul at the time. I do know Willow got better, though. She channeled her magic into something productive, and used her mojo to help stop another apocalypse a year later. In addition to all the magic skills, Will is a whiz with computers. Best of both worlds, I suppose. I tried to kill her a few times over the years. Glad I didn’t. She’s become a good friend. 

Anyway, once the Allu demons were taken care of, Willow and I headed to LA to pay Buffy a visit. She had moved into a flat a few blocks from campus. 

We arrived at her flat shortly before sunrise. When we climbed the two flights of stairs to her door, we found Buffy already standing in the doorway. She was wearing jeans and a green button down shirt, which made her matching eyes sparkle. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders and curled up a little at the ends.

“Hey Will,” she said through a glowing smile as she accepted a big hug from Willow.

“It’s good to be back in California,” Willow commented as she released her friend, “Those Cleveland nights were getting chilly.”

“I didn’t mind,” I announced, earning a snigger from the Slayer.

Buffy reached up and gave my arm a welcoming squeeze. “Hi Spike.”

At that, Willow lugged her suitcase and laptop bag inside. She mumbled something about the bathroom on her way, leaving the Slayer and I alone outside.

Buffy looked out at the gentle pink and orange glow appearing along the horizon. “Cutting it kinda close, aren’t you?”

“Never was one for playing it safe,” I answered without looking. I could feel that sunrise was approaching. “Too boring otherwise.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but looked amused. She stepped back into the flat, pushing the door open wide. “You better come on in, Spike. Unless you’d like the adrenaline rush that comes along with bursting into flame.”

I felt the invisible barrier blocking her doorway fall and stepped inside. “Not today, pet. Thanks for the invite.”

We gathered around a little table in the dining area of the combined kitchen, dining, and living room. Buffy poured Willow a cup of coffee, then poured another for herself. She offered one to me, but I waved her off. We were making small-talk, discussing the drive over, when Buffy’s roommate came into the kitchen. Her brunette hair was mangled about her face and her blue eyes looked dull and bloodshot, with dark half-circles underneath. She wore a wrinkled, oversized, charcoal gray T-shirt that fell halfway to her knees. The front of the tee had a complicated series of math equations on it with “If it were easy it’d be your mom” in block lettering underneath. It was fairly obvious that she had just woken up. 

“Good morning Cat.” Buffy’s voice came out slow and soft, like she was talking to a predatory beast of some sort. 

Cat had her eyes focused on the half-full coffee pot, but acknowledged Buffy with a grunt. Cat turned her back to us while she poured herself a cup. She then picked up the coffee cup with both hands and brought it to her lips. Without a glance towards Buffy or the two strangers in her flat, she shuffled back down the hall to her room, coffee in tow. 

“Well, isn’t she just a ray of sunshine,” I mused, slipping off my duster and hanging it on the back of my chair.

“She’s not a morning person,” explained Buffy.

“Clearly,” Willow chimed in. 

The three of us caught up for a while. Buffy told us about her coursework, and Will and I told her about Cleveland. Cat must’ve moved into the loo, because I heard the shower turn on. 

“How’s Faith?” Buffy asked, more out of obligation than interest.

“Bitchy, per usual,” I answered, eliciting a stifled giggle from the Slayer.

“She’s doing well,” contradicted Willow, shooting me a disapproving glare. “It’s nice to see her so driven. She’s making a real difference out there. Especially with the new slayers.”

Buffy plastered on a large fake smile. “Good!” she forced out, “Good, that’s… great. I mean, I’m not doing the full-time slaying or mentoring gig these days. Glad to hear she’s fighting the good fight.”

I arched a brow at her. “Really,” Buffy countered, “I’m glad. It sounds like she’s doing good things.”

Buffy lowered her voice to a near whisper, turning her head away from Willow and locking eyes with me as she muttered, “For a change.”

I made a few more comments about Faith that made Willow frown and Buffy smirk, when I heard the shower turn off. Shortly after, Cat sauntered back into the kitchen, and I did a double take. Pretty sure Red did too. Cat had a towel wrapped around her head, turban style. The blue in her eyes seemed brighter, and the bloodshot look and dark circles were gone. My eyes quickly travelled elsewhere, however. Cat was wearing nothing but a towel, showing off a lot of long, smooth, shapely leg. Little beads of water remained along her bare, slightly freckled shoulders. Cat, still oblivious to her audience, refilled the empty coffee cup she had carried back with her. I tilted my head, watching intently as one of the drops of water slid from her neck. It dropped to her collar bone then continued its descent and disappeared down her cleavage. 

Buffy cleared her throat, which made Willow jump enough to hit the underside of the table with her knee. I however, continued to enjoy the view. Especially since Cat was about to bend down and pick up that spoon she had just dropped. 

That’s when Buffy punched me. Almost knocked me out of my bloody chair. At least she hit my arm instead of my face. It was a nice change. Still hurt though.

“Ow!” I yelled, rubbing my arm and glowering. Cat must’ve retrieved her spoon, which I missed thanks to Buffy. I heard it clank about when she tossed it in the sink. “Watch it Slayer!” 

Cat looked over at us, surprised.

“Oh, uh… ‘Slayer’ is just a silly nickname,” stammered Willow. “It’s a, um, funny inside joke that I, uh, um, can’t seem to remember right now, but uh--”

“Relax Will,” interrupted Buffy, “she already knows.” 

Cat took a sip from her cup and leaned against the counter. “Yep.” She took another look at Willow and me, then blurted out, “Now who the hell are you guys?”

Buffy stood up. “These are a couple friends of mine. Willow and Spike. They’re also from Sunnydale.”

“London here, actually,” I corrected, still rubbing my arm and glaring at Buffy.

“Spike, huh?” Cat eyed me up and down. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Sorry to disappoint, love.”

Cat’s eyes shifted to her roommate and asked playfully, “Do you beat up all of your friends? If so, we may need to rethink our living situation.”

Buffy shook her head. “Just the annoying ones.”

I tried to scowl at Buffy, but it morphed into a smile instead when she fluttered her lashes innocently. 

Cat turned her gaze to Willow. “And you’re the super strong witch chick? The one that turned a bunch of regular girls into a slayer army? Nice.”

Willow flushed at the compliment. “Uh, I guess so, yeah. Thanks?” Willow turned to Buffy and asked, “How much did you tell her?”

Buffy answered with a shrug and opened her mouth to talk, but Cat beat her to it. “Just the basics, I’m sure.”

“Wait,” said Willow, returning her composure, “so, are you a slayer too?”

“Hell no,” answered Cat, while Buffy shook her head. “I’m just in on the big secret. Buffy tried to keep the whole slaying thing hush hush for a while, but between the lectures about not inviting random people inside and then finding a stake between the couch cushions, I sort of figured it out. She didn’t have much of a choice at that point.”

“Really shouldn’t leave your toys lying around, Slayer,” I lectured, wagging my finger at Buffy.

Buffy squinted at me. “Do you WANT me to hit you again?”

I sneered at her. “Oh come on. That’s an old tune. You really should come up with some new material.”

Buffy crossed her arms. “Keep talking Spike,” she threatened. Then she added cheerily, “There could be sharp, pointy weapons this time.”

I leaned toward Buffy, ready to continue our banter, but Cat interrupted with a loud, possibly forced laugh.

“What?” I asked, mild annoyance in my voice.

Cat took another sip of coffee and replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “You guys must’ve had some super hot sex.”

That caught us all off guard. Willow just let out a surprised, “Oh!” while Buffy yelled, “Cat!”

“Bloody hell, pet,” I laughed, shaking my head at Buffy, “What DIDN’T you share?”

This time Buffy was the one to blush. “I didn’t say anything about-- Oh God, did Dawn tell you? It was Dawn, wasn’t it!”

Cat shook her head and peered over the edge of her cup as she tipped it up for another slow sip of her coffee. 

“No? It was Xander?!” Buffy clenched her fists tight as she continued, “Ugh! I’m gonna poke his other eye out!”

I snorted at that one. Willow wrinkled up her nose at her friend. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Cat waved her hand dismissively. “Oh calm down. No one told me. It’s so obvious! Were you guys a thing or just fuck buddies?”

Buffy’s eyes grew even wider, and Willow diverted her gaze downward to stare at a suddenly interesting spot on the table. I crossed my arms, raised my eyebrows at Buffy, and asked, “Yeah love, which was it?”

Buffy answered by punching me again. In the face this time. Can’t have any fun with the bird.

I got up off the floor, rubbing my jaw. Cat appeared briefly concerned, but soon after let out a quick chuckle. She drained the last of the coffee from her cup and placed it in the sink, then went back down the hall to her room, and shut the door behind her.

“Well,” remarked Willow, “she’s, um, interesting.”

“I like her.” I smirked, although it made my jaw sting. I set my chair upright, replaced my duster on the back of it, and sat down.

“Of course you do,” Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “She tends to say exactly what she’s thinking. Just like you.”

“You don’t realize how much I censor myself, “ I retorted.

Buffy drew out a sarcastic, “Sure.” She grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and tossed it to me.

I caught a glimpse of Cat leaving her bedroom, fully dressed in snug jeans and a red fitted t-shirt. She went into the loo again, toweling dry her dark, damp hair as she walked. I heard the door shut, followed by the hum of a hair dryer. 

“So,” I began as I placed the ice pack on my jaw, “what’s the plan for the day?”

“You are going to stay here. I’m going to class.” She then turned to Willow. “Will, you should hit the mall! You deserve some serious shop therapy after spending so much time stuck with HIM.” Buffy tilted her head my direction. Then added, “And Faith.”

Red gave her a “that was rude” look, but smiled anyway. “Shopping sounds fun. I’m short a few conjuring supplies too. Is there a magic shop here?”

“There’s a store called ‘Hats for Housepets’ with three locations in this sodding city,” I remarked, moving the ice pack away from my jaw as I spoke. “I’m sure you could find at least one decent witch shop.”

Buffy grabbed a couple books and notebooks off of a bookshelf near the hallway. “I better get going. You guys make yourselves at home.” She opened the front door, then turned back and added, “Oh, Spike, there’s some blood in the fridge.”

“Cheers, pet.” Buffy gave me a nod, then stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Willow unpacked her laptop and started looking for a magic store. I headed to the fridge and found a clear, plastic container of blood on the top shelf. I opened the lid and gave it a sniff. My stomach growled in response. Pig’s blood. Pretty fresh too. I poured about half of it into a coffee mug, stuck it in the microwave to heat, and placed the remaining blood in it’s previous spot in the fridge. I put the ice pack back in the freezer while I was at it. Even if my jaw bruised, it would heal up long before Buffy returned. Fast healing, one of the many benefits of being a vampire.

Once the blood was ready, I moved to the couch and heard the hair dryer turn off. I stretched out, turned on the telly, and started flipping channels as I sipped. Cat came back in the room. She looked lovely, especially compared to my first view of her this morning. Very “girl next door.” Her dark hair was now smooth and shiny. She had pulled it to one side in front of her right shoulder, the ends hanging just below the top of her breast. She wore some light makeup, enough to color her cheeks and emphasize her blue eyes. She came over and sat on the arm of the couch next to me. 

Willow had found a shop she wanted to try out and exchanged good-byes with Cat and me. She packed her laptop back into its bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed out the door.

After a few minutes of watching a mindless nature documentary about otters, Cat broke the silence. “Must be boring,” she blurted out without turning her eyes away from the screen.

“What’s boring?” 

She looked down at me. “Daytime. I mean, you can’t go anywhere. You’re stuck inside all day long. I’d be bored out of my mind.”

“I tend to sleep through a lot of it,” I responded.

“Still…” remarked Cat, looking away again. She scrunched up her face a second later. “What kind of name is ‘Spike’ anyway? What’s your real name?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I scoffed.

Cat turned to me with a mischievous grin. “Want to play the Question Game?”

I arched a brow. “Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”

“The Question Game. I tell you how many questions I’ll ask, and you agree to answer them. No matter what, you HAVE to tell the truth.” 

“So it’s a less interesting version of ‘Truth or Dare,’ then?”

Cat scoffed, unamused. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“Ok, I’ll play along,” I answered through a sigh, “but I get to ask a question of my own.”

Cat turned towards me, suddenly excited again. “Deal. One question. What’s your real name?”

“William.”

“William?” She said my name like it tasted bad in her mouth. “Really? You don’t look like a William.”

“Which is why I don’t use it.” I paused. “Your turn, pet. Same question.”

Cat tilted back her head and groaned, “Ugh. I regret this deal already. I was really hoping you had some horrible Medieval or Renaissance sounding name. You know, like a knight. D'Artagnan or Tyrion or something.”

“Medieval? How old do you think I am?!” I shook my head. “And Tyrion isn’t a knight, he’s a character from Game of Thrones.”

“Yeah well, I think you should go with something cooler than ‘William’ anyway.”

“I did,” I corrected emphatically, “I went with ‘Spike.’”

“Yeah, real cool,” replied Cat with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “You share a name with the bulldog down the hall, ya know.”

I put down my mug and straightened up on the couch, narrowing my eyes and trying to look a bit threatening. “Watch yourself, pussycat,” I warned slowly, keeping my voice low, “I may have a soul, but I have been known to bite.”

Instead of being intimidated like I had hoped, Cat looked amused. “Yeah, so has the bulldog.”

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “Alright then. I showed you mine. No more stalling.”

Her amusement disappeared quickly. “Fine,” she grumbled, looking down at the floor, “Catherine.”

“That’s not so bad,” I told her. I paused to drink the last of my meal before setting the mug down again. “It’s nice, actually.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like a Catherine.” She looked away again, and I noticed something. She was worrying her bottom lip, looking everywhere that wasn’t at me. She’d been an open book all morning, not a bit shy or nervous until now. She was lying to me. 

I smirked, letting out a knowing, “Mmhmm.”

“What?” she spat icily. 

“That’s not entirely true, is it?”

“Yes it is!” she barked, standing up with her back to me.

I stood up too. “Cheater,” I teased. “Catherine’s your middle name, yeah?” 

She spun around to face me, her brows pulled together tight. “Are you vampires psychic or something?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No kitten. I’m just good at reading people.”

Cat crossed her arms, pouting. “You suck, you know that?”

I shrugged and put my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “So I’ve been told. Your rules, love. Let’s have it then.”

She looked at me with such intensity, her eyes angry but amused at the same time. “If I tell you this,” she started, deepening her voice, “you cannot tell anyone. And you better not laugh.”

“Yeah, all right,” I snapped, growing impatient. I pulled my hands out of my pockets and put them onto my hips to better show my annoyance. “Just tell me already.”

She nibbled her bottom lip and stepped in close, putting a hand on each side of my chest. She leaned in towards me, and I could feel her breath on my neck, slowly moving closer to my ear. I heard her heartbeat quicken, heard the resulting rush of blood under her skin. Was she nervous about sharing her name or excited about being near me? I moved my hands to her waist, helping to guide her closer. I closed my eyes and took in a long, quiet breath, drawing in her scent. She smelled of vanilla, coconut, crisp cotton, and rich hazelnut coffee that had lingered on her breath despite the spearmint toothpaste. It was heavenly.

I heard her lips part before she spoke, her mouth nearly brushing against my earlobe as she did. “My first name,” she whispered, “is Ginger.”

I opened my eyes and straightened my arms enough to move her backwards a bit, so I could see her face. “Ginger,” I repeated, a serious look on mine. “I see.”

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip again, only this time, it was bloody hot. She ran a finger along her collarbone, her expression sultry, then slowly licked her lips and gave a shy nod. 

She was trying to distract me. It nearly worked.

I released my hold of her and started pacing back and forth. Head down, lips pursed, I was trying desperately to hold back the laughter that was building up in my gut. 

She could tell it was coming. Her demeanor changed instantly. 

“William,” she warned, “don’t you dare.”

I avoided it as long as I could, but a chuckle slipped out, followed by a belly laugh that nearly made me double over. As I cackled, I could see Cat growing angrier with each passing second. 

“I’m sorry, love,” I managed to get out while I wiped a couple tears from my eye, “Really, I am.” 

My apology wasn’t helping. Cat was fuming. She emphasized each sound as she said, “Fuck. You.”

“Oh come on,” I defended, regaining my self-control, “Can you really blame me? I didn’t know people were actually named ‘Ginger!’ I thought it was one of those fake stripper names, like ‘Sunshine’ or ‘Cherry.’”

Cat crossed her arms. “Not helping, dude.”

“Is that what you went by growing up?” I asked seriously, “Ginger?”

“God no. I went by ‘Ginny’ at first, but with the fucking Harry Potter franchise a whole new brand of torture was released, so I switched to ‘Cat’ at my next school.”

“Good choice,” I agreed. “You moved around often as a kid?”

“Yeah,” replied Cat, her posture softening a little, “I was in foster care, so I bounced around a bunch.”

“That’s a rough lot.”

Cat shrugged, then flopped onto the couch. “My parents died in a car accident when I was 6, so I didn’t really know any different. It is what it is.”

“No other family?”

Cat shook her head. “Nope. Just me.”

I sighed and sat down next to her. “Well, welcome to the most dysfunctional family in the States.” Cat looked confused, so I clarified, “Buffy and her friends, they’re close. Might as well be family.” I winked and added, “Looks like you’re just buggered up enough to fit right in with the rest of them.”

Cat turned in her seat to face me. “You said ‘them’ instead of ‘us.’ Aren’t you part of the family too?”

I shrugged, staring off into space as I thought back to my time in Sunnydale. “I don’t know. I spent a few years on the outside looking in. Only one that wanted me around back then was Buffy, and she didn’t exactly like me either. More like she tolerated me in exchange for a bit of help from time to time.” 

“So the super hot sexcapades started recently. Over the Summer, maybe?”

“Definitely not,” I answered a little too quickly. “It was a long time ago. Years.”

“Ooooh, ok.” Cat nodded as if she just figured something out.

“What?”

“I get it. You’re a vampire, she’s a slayer. The whole ‘I’m gonna kill you dead’ thing got a little too sexy after a while.” Cat put her arm around me, leaning on my shoulder. “Hate sex, right?”

I shook my head, looking down and answered without thinking. “For one of us, anyway.” I shot my eyes back to hers and quickly added, “But that was a LONG time ago.”

“Right,” Cat responded. She was silent for a moment, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes twinkled again and she purred, “One question.”

“You already got one,” I chided. 

“Fine, one MORE question,” she clarified, then stuck her tongue out at me.

“What are you, 12?” I retorted, “Fine, ask away.”

“Do you love her?”

“No, I don’t!” I spat. 

Cat pulled her arm away in surprise, but then lowered her chin and looked up at me in a “sure you don’t” sort of way. 

“I don’t,” I repeated, calmly this time. “Sorry. I did love her once. An unhealthy sort of love. But not anymore. She’s more like family now.”

Cat smiled. “So it IS ‘us’ instead of ‘them’, huh? You’re part of this crazy ass family too.”

I returned the smile. “Guess so.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cat and I sat and talked a bit more. She asked me about random things, like what the weather is like in England, about my first encounters with cars and airplanes, if I ever thought about getting a spray tan, and such. She told me about her coursework in business economics, her passion for all things math, and about her move from the East Coast to LA. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was nice to talk about something other than demons for a change. 

About 30 minutes later, Cat had to leave for class. I laid down on the couch and grabbed the throw off the back of it, pulling it over me. I closed my eyes, smiling as I detected remnants of Cat’s scent against the couch cushion. I thought about the feel of her body against mine, her hot breath against my skin. I hoped for an opportunity to get close to her again and slowly drifted to sleep.

Will and Buffy came back while I was sleeping, and I didn’t stir. Guess I was more tired than I thought. I slept solidly through the day and into the evening, waking when Cat returned home with a bag full of Chinese takeout. While Willow, Buffy, and Cat sat at the table to swap shopping and schooling stories over dinner, I headed to the loo for a shower. By the time I was finished, the girls were chatting away about moisturizers and pore cleansing masks or some garbage. I went back to the couch to fold up the throw and place it back in its spot. 

I took a moment to look around the room while I did. Typical college type stuff. Their comfy couch sat in the middle of the living room side of their great room. Perpendicular to the couch were a couple mismatched upholstered chairs. Thrift store finds, I suppose. They had an old but sturdy coffee table which was scattered with various flyers for take-out and a couple magazines. A less sturdy pressboard Wal-Mart buy was on the wall across from the couch and held the telly and a small collection of movies. 

A bookshelf leaned against the wall next to the hallway. I wandered over to it, tilting my head to read the spines of the books. It held mostly school books, probably Cat’s from semesters past. I assumed they were Cat’s since they were math heavy. I’m not saying Buffy’s stupid, mind you, I just don’t see her working her way through Advanced Calculus or Notable Women of Mathematics: The Research of Emmy Noether. On the bottom shelf sat some worn, leather-bound books. They had “old book smell,” sort of an earthy sweetness with hints of almond. Other smells were mixed in, much more subtle though. Layers of decades old cigarette and cigar smoke and musky cologne mingled with something else much newer. A food smell. Pizza? Ah, Watcher diaries. Giles must have given them to Buffy some time ago. Guess one of the Scoobies lost their pizza toppings onto a couple books during a research session. My money’s on Xander. 

“Hey, Spike,” called Cat.

I turned away from the books and answered as I walked towards the women, “Yeah?”

“You’ve got to help me,” she begged, concern and desperation in her voice. 

I frowned and looked over to Buffy and Willow. Red was shaking her head, a sheepish grin on her lips. Buffy crossed her arms in front of her and rolled her eyes. Whatever Cat wanted, it obviously wasn’t as important as she made it out to be. 

“Fear not,” I announced as dramatically as possible. I balled my hands into fists and placed them on my hips, pulled my shoulders back, closed my eyes, and turned my head up and to the side, showing off my profile. “Helping the helpless is what I do best.”

Buffy rolled her eyes again, but let out a laugh along with Willow and Cat. I flashed my best attempt at a superhero smile and sat down at the open seat which still held my duster. 

“What can I do for you, kitten?”

Cat stood up from her chair, leaned forward with both hands on the table, and replaced her smile with a stern expression. “There is a serious lack of fun in this apartment.”

“Right,” I agreed, nodding, “that IS a problem.”

“Damn right!” Cat exclaimed, giving the table a whack with her hand for emphasis. “It’s Friday night for God’s sake! Can you believe Buffy said it would be fun to ‘work a puzzle’ tonight? A fucking puzzle!”

I moved to rest an arm over the back of my chair, looking over at Buffy. She just sighed, trying to hide her amusement.

“I thought it sounded fun,” supported Willow, giving Buffy a nod. Always the devoted friend, that Red.

“Ugh!” yelled Cat. She stood up, pressing a fist against each of her hips. She looked genuinely upset. “You two are like little old ladies. Maybe you should spend the night sitting around the radio, crocheting doilies, and sipping tea. Stick with decaf though, otherwise you might have to be up past nine o’clock.” Cat pouted with her whole body, drooping her arms and rounding her shoulders as she whined, “Come on! Let’s go out!”

Buffy seemed immune to Cat’s teasing and maintained her small, amused smile. She must have some version of this conversation every Friday night, I wagered. 

Willow shifted in her seat. “Actually, I am pretty tired,” she apologized, “Spike and I traveled at night for past four days to get here. I didn’t get much sleep in the car.”

Cat tapped her foot and aimed a pointed stare at Buffy. Buffy shook her head. “Sorry Cat. I’m just not up to it tonight. Anyway, I’d like to catch up with Will some.”

Cat turned her attention to me. “Well? What’s your excuse?”

“Excuse? I’m not staying cooped up in here all night,” I announced.

Cat straightened up, excitement creeping into her voice. “Really?” She started hopping up and down on the balls of her feet, clapping like an excited school girl. It made her hair, and other even more entertaining body parts, bounce playfully about. 

I stood up, grabbed my duster off the back of the chair and started threading my arms through the sleeves. I gave Cat a disapproving look from head to toe. “You wearing that?”

Cat paused mid-bounce and glared at me. “No, dumbass.” 

I heard Buffy stifle a laugh behind me when Cat gave me the finger as she rushed towards her room. Just before her door slammed shut, I heard Cat call out, “Give me 20 minutes!”

I turned around narrowing my eyes at Buffy and prepping for some witty, but playful insult from her. Instead, she caught me off guard. There was a look in her green eyes that told me something was on her mind. Buffy must have noticed me noticing her, because she stood up and walked over to me. She reached out with one hand and tenderly smoothed down the lapel of my duster, letting her hand linger on my chest. She looked up at me without saying a word. 

I raised an eyebrow at her, confused. “Slayer?”

“Just be careful Spike, ok?” She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and pulled me down against her. 

We hug now? I placed my hands on her back, cautiously returning the hug. I glanced over Buffy’s shoulder at Willow to search for some sort of explanation. Will, eyes wide, just shrugged. Buffy pulled away after a few seconds and patted my chest a couple times. She turned and went back to join her friend at the table. 

I stood there for a minute, mouth agape, unsure of what just happened. Buffy took a drink from the Diet Coke in front of her, then focused her attention on Willow. The Witch nervously shifted her gaze between Buffy and me. 

“Hold on,” I uttered, perplexed. I held my hands up in front of me for emphasis, as I spluttered, “What the hell was that?”

Buffy looked at me innocently. “What was what?”

“THAT. What was that?”

Buffy just stared back down at her drink. Willow diverted her gaze and feigned interest in a stray napkin on the table.

I walked toward the table and stopped next to Buffy’s seat. I peer down at her. “Buffy.” She hesitated, but tilted her chin up to look at me. “Talk to me.”

Buffy glanced over at Willow, who briefly made eye contact, then practically jumped out of her chair. “I, um, have to, uh, go to the bathroom,” Willow stammered. She hurried off down the hall into Buffy’s room instead, leaving Buffy and me alone.

Once Willow had closed the door behind her, I pulled a chair close to Buffy and sat down. “What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing, Spike,” she responded without looking at me.

“Dammit Slayer, can’t we skip through this BS and get to the part where you tell me what the bleeding hell is going on?”

Buffy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s not my place to say anything.” 

“And when has that ever stopped you before?” I questioned, irritated.

“Ok, ok, fine,” she relented, lifting her hands in surrender. “I just want you to be careful with Cat. That’s all. She’s, well, she likes to… have fun.”

The annoyance stayed in my tone, along with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “Oh. Thanks for the warning. That sounds horrible.”

“I mean,” Buffy shook her head, “she likes to... meet, um, new friends.” She searched my face for a reaction, which I didn’t give her, so she added, “The kind of friend that spends the night.” 

When my expression didn’t change, Buffy let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh my God, do I really need to spell this out for you?”

“I get it, love,” I began, “What I don’t get, is why you feel the need to tell me about it.” I tilted my head at her, as if seeing her from a different angle would help me figure her out. It never works.

Buffy looked down at her fingers. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

I leaned back in my chair and laughed. Hearty, belly laughs. Buffy’s head shot up. Confusion showed on her face first, but was quickly replaced with anger. 

“Oh Slayer,” I got out between chortles, “That’s rich coming from you.”

I watched Buffy’s anger fade into sadness as she turned her attention back down to her knotted fingers. My words stung her, but that wasn’t my intention at all. Bollocks. 

“Hey, Buffy,” I spoke seriously, leaning forward to place my hand on her shoulder, “I didn’t mean it like that. I was talking about that shot to my jaw earlier, not about...” 

I didn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t need to. She knew what I meant. Buffy offered a slight nod, but continued to stare down at her hands.

I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as I assured her. “Really, love. I appreciate the concern. Honest.”

Buffy grabbed onto her Diet Coke, turning the can around in her hands. “I never really said I was sorry about, um, that.” She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. 

“Buffy, I--”

She held up a hand, cutting me off. “It’s time I said it. It’s way overdue. I am truly sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to use you like that. It was wrong of me, no matter how wonky things were at the time.”

“I don’t recall complaining,” I answered. Buffy looked away again. I leaned towards her. “Water under the bridge. I got over it a long time ago.” I took a deep, unnecessary breath and added, “You forgave me for something far worse, pet.”

Her eyes welled up at that. I reached out, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her shoulder against my chest. She tilted her head to rest on my shoulder, placing her hands on my arm in front of her. Her breath was warm against my neck. Guess we are huggers after all. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

“Me too.”

Buffy cleared her throat and sniffled once. She raised her head, and I released the embrace. She wiped her cheeks dry with her hand, then regained her usual confidence and composure. 

“Anyway,” she resumed, “I just don’t want you to end up in the same situation with Cat as you were with, well, with me.”

“What do you think is happening tonight?” I asked with amusement in my voice. “I’m just ready for a bit of fun, and Cat seems like she knows how to have a good time. So, yeah, I may chat her up a bit. But that doesn’t mean I’m on the pull. I’m getting gassed regardless, so it’d be right smart to have a mate about to make sure I get back to the flat before daylight.”

“Huh? What are you even saying?” Buffy teased, smiling up at me. “You really need to learn English one of these days.”

“Bloody Colonists.” I leaned back again and shook my head, glad to see Buffy back to her snarky self. “Maybe I should just add a ‘Y’ to the end of every word. Would that helpy?”

I heard Cat’s footsteps approaching from behind me as Buffy answered using her best attempt at a British accent, “Right-o!” 

We both laughed, releasing the uncomfortable tension that had built up. Cat wandered into my peripheral vision, and my jaw dropped. Thankfully I don’t have to breathe, because she would’ve taken my breath away. Sounds corny, I know, but it was true. Cat was wearing a long sleeve, skin tight, black dress which clung along her curves, the hem ended just above her mid-thigh. The neckline was straight, which hid her ample cleavage, but accentuated her collarbone and neck. She had pulled her hair into a loose braid, still resting across one shoulder. She bent down to fasten the clasps on her strappy red heels, and I saw bare skin. A deep V started at her shoulders and tapered down to a point at her lower back. She stood back up, and I saw she was wearing more makeup now. She had lined her eyes with deep black. A smokey silver-gray was on her lids, making her blue eyes look even more striking. Her cheekbones were dusted with a shimmery peach, and her lips were bright red.

“You look great, Cat,” Buffy raved, and Cat beamed in response. I realized my mouth was still agape, so I quickly set my jaw before she noticed. I may have had to wipe a bit of drool from the edge of my mouth too.

Buffy stood up, placing her hand on the top of my shoulder and giving it a pat. “I’m going to check on Willow. You guys have fun.”

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” I asked as she started down the hall.

“Nah. I have some doilies to knit.”

“It was crochet!” Cat called back as Buffy closed the bedroom door behind her.

Through the door, we heard Buffy yell back a muffled, “Whatever!”

Cat placed one hand on her hip, shifting her weight to that side. “Ready to go?”

I stood up from my chair. “Lead the way, love.”


	3. Chapter 3

I opened the door of the cab and climbed out from the back seat, taking a moment to scan the sidewalk for trouble. Habit. Large stars were set down into the sidewalk, and I realized we had stopped along the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I offered my hand to Cat, who scooted out and took it. I gave her a gentle pull as she stood up. 

Cat straightened out her dress, giving the hem a downward tug. “I love this club,” she squealed, indicating the building in front of us. 

There was a substantial line of people waiting to get in. Cat waved to the bouncer, and he raised his chin in acknowledgement, then jerked his head to the side to usher her over. Cat turned to me as she started toward the bouncer. “Wait here, I’ll be right back!”

I watched Cat greet him with an exuberant hug and say something into his ear. He nodded, then said something to her as well. Between the noise of the crowd and the beat from the music inside bleeding out into the street, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The two appeared to chat for a bit, then Cat kissed him on the cheek. She waved me over as she turned her back to the man and moved toward the waiting crowd.

“He’s going to let us jump the line,” Cat boasted proudly. “Pays to know a guy. It should just be a few minutes.”

“Friend of yours?” I asked, smirking suggestively.

Her blue eyes got that mischievous gleam again. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

We squeezed in near the front of the line behind a group of women that looked like they were models. Not the curvy, ridiculously hot lingerie models, but the tall, skinny high fashion type. While we waited, I peered up at the building. It had a Spanish colonial look to it, complete with ornate Baroque designs surrounding the entrance and along the wall.

“Hey, I know this place,” I recollected, “I came here a few years back. Uh, 1996 I reckon. I saw the Ramones play their last show here.”

“Who?”

I didn’t hide my shock well. “What do you mean ‘who?’” I shouted, looking at her as if she had grown an extra head. “You’re joking! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Ramones! ‘I Wanna Be Sedated?’ ‘Teenage Lobotomy?’ ‘Blitzkrieg Bop?’”

“Are you having a stroke?” she joked.

I smacked my hand against my forehead. “Bloody hell, pet. You are in need dire need of some Rock education.”

“Ok. You can be my teacher,” Cat said playfully. Then her expression turned seductive, and she placed her arms around my neck. She looked up at me, her voice low, “If I get bad grade, what would I need to do for extra credit?” She kept her lips parted and traced her tongue along one bright red lip. 

She smiled at the surprise on my face. The girl knows how to play a fella, I’ll give her that. But, I can play too. I smirked and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her body into mine with a bit of force. I kept my voice low and husky as I instructed, “I’ll see you after class, young lady.”

Cat laughed, hugging me tighter, then released me and took a step back. “You are so much more fun than that other you-know-what Buffy dated.”

“You met that wanker?” I spouted, “Polio is more fun that he is.”

“Yeah, Angel doesn’t speak too highly of you either,” she responded, entertained. 

“He, uh, comes by a lot, then?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. It didn’t work.

Cat squinted at me. “Just friends, huh?”

“Yeah, just friends,” I replied, sounding a little more melancholy than I expected. “I want Buffy to be happy.” I paused and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans before adding, “Just not with him.”

“You know, he told me the same thing. Only about you.” Cat threaded her arm through mine, leaning against it. “Does that mean none of you get to be happy?”

“Well,” I started, perking up, “I’ve got a beautiful woman hanging on my arm right now while Angel’s probably sitting at home. Alone. Brooding in the dark. I think I’ve got the lead on ‘happy’ at the moment.”

Cat beamed and squeezed my arm just as one of the bouncers unhooked the velvet rope blocking us and motioned for us enter. The interior had changed quite a bit since I was here last. A pair of long bars flanked the room, the bartenders already preparing various cocktails. Just beyond the bars, small round tables and long, white couches sat waiting for someone to shell out a couple hundred dollars for bottle service. A couple steps down was the dance floor. It was massive and already packed with people. What passed as music, full of electronic beeps and thrums, blared from the stage. Laser lights from above the stage were changing colors, flicking up and down, back and forth among the crowd.

Cat leaned toward my ear and yelled over the music, “Isn’t this place amazing?!” 

I nodded and smiled for her benefit. The club scene just isn’t as exciting as it once was. It used to be an all-you-can-eat buffet. Back before my soul, mind you. Scan the crowd for the weak link or for a challenge, depending on my mood, and have at it. You’d be surprised at how easily the smartest of women can be fooled.

Cat pulled me out of my murderous recollections by grabbing my hand and dragging me into the middle of the crowd. She raised her arms above her head and began moving her body with the techno beat.

Although I enjoyed watching her gyrate, I leaned forward and yelled over the music, “Not one for dancing, love.”

Cat pouted, bringing her arms down around me again. Her face close to mine, she shouted, “Let loose! Have some fun! Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t live a little.”

“Clever,” I called back, “but my idea of fun is at the bottom of one of those bottles.” I flicked my chin toward the bar. “Want anything?”

Cat huffed, and shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll meet up with you later then!”

I worked my way out of the crowd toward the bar, but stopped mid-way. It was just as packed as the dance floor. I looked up to the mezzanine, noticing a bar up there as well. It didn’t look as full as the ones on the main level, so I climbed the stairs. A few minutes later I had my forearms resting on the railing overlooking the dance floor, Jack in hand. I spotted Cat in the middle of the crowd, dancing away. She was moving between a couple blokes, her body making contact with each of them in turn. She certainly does know how to have fun. 

I scanned the rest of the crowd. One hundred years of lurking and hunting from the shadows makes it a hard habit to break. My eyes stopped on a group of five women that looked like they were already gassed. Probably “pre-gamed” before coming out. (I think that’s the term Dawn used for it, anyway.) Four of them were dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and various versions of pink tops. Not the fifth one, though. She was decked out in a cropped, white halter top and low-cut, white, skin-tight vinyl pants. She had a pink feather boa wrapped around her neck and wore a pink cowboy hat and matching boots. Bachelorette party. I watched the group a bit longer, letting my mind revert to pre-soul me for an imaginary hunt. I wouldn’t take the bride-to-be. Too easy for someone to spot in that sodding outfit. Plus, where’s the thrill there? She’s already three sheets to the wind. Far too lazy of a kill. I watched the four women in her group, the bridesmaids. One stood out. Or rather, she didn’t. She was a short, mousy thing, her curly brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She carried some extra weight, just enough to give her cheeks and jawline a childlike softness. Curly tried to join in with the drunken laughter from the rest of her group, but I could tell it was forced. She didn’t want to be there. It would be easy to slip in, show her a bit of attention, and pull her to a quiet spot where I could sink my teeth into her. I bet she wouldn’t even scream. Lucky for her, I’m on a strict diet these days. 

I drained the last of the whiskey from my glass and went back to the bar for another. I had to wait a while this time, so when I made it back to my spot against the railing I looked for Cat again. I found her easily, still grinding away but with a different fellow this time. One of her hands held a drink of some sort, while the other was planted firmly on the man’s ass. I smiled, wondering if Cat ever actually went home alone, then searched out the bridal party once more. The bride was swinging her hat in the air, miming like she was riding a bull while her three bridesmaids dutifully whooped and cheered. Three? I scanned the crowd again, trying to spot the fourth bridesmaid, my mousy mark. I leaned over the railing, straining to see if she was in line at one of the lower level bars, but couldn’t get a good look. I took a deep breath. She was probably just in the loo or maybe stepped outside to escape her friends for a bit of a break. Still, she was such an easy target. Bugger. 

I emptied my glass in one swig and rushed down the stairs towards the bars. No sign of the curly haired bridesmaid there. I couldn’t rely on hearing to find her, not with this much noise and so many people about. I closed my eyes for a moment to think, trying to block out everything. Where would I take her, if it was me? It would have to be away from the crowd, somewhere a bit darker, more intimate. A place where an onlooker might mistake my bite for a lover’s embrace and think nothing of it. My eyes shot open. The bloody bottle service area. I had walked right through it to get to the bar and didn’t even look myself. 

I hurried back to scour the table and couches. I spotted her on a couch, her back against the far wall. She was smiling, fumbling with a loose curl, and looking smitten with the man in front of her. His back was to me. He was leaning toward her, his right arm gripping the back edge of the couch, the other holding a half-full champagne flute. He handed the glass to her. She took a sip and placed it back on the table. He moved closer. His arm still planted on the couch, he brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. She flushed instantly. It looked innocent enough to your standard eye, but this was a game I knew too well. He moved his left hand down to gently graze her arm, then pressed his hand against the wall behind her. He had her cornered, and she didn’t even know it. He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the mouth. She didn’t seem to mind. She let out a little giggle when he pulled back. Then, he moved in again, this time tilting his head down to her neck. 

“Karen?!” I yelled, making the bridesmaid jump and drawing the attention of the suspected vampire. “Karen Duncan, is that you?”

The man looked up at me, clearly put out by my interruption. She shook her head and answered, “No, sorry.” 

“Oh, my mistake,” I apologized, “I swear I know you from somewhere though. Do you work in the Jewelry District?” She shook her head again, her “date” began tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on the table. I ignored him. “No? Hmm. Maybe we ran into each other abroad. You even been to London?”

When it was obvious I was not giving up, the man stood up and got in my face. “She doesn’t know you, Percy,” he hissed, “Move on.”

I sniffed and rubbed my nose, trying to hide my attempt at gathering a scent. Vampires smell different than humans. Human have a wide variety of smells. They’re like wine. Humans range from bitter to fruity, rich to light. Just like one depressed soccer mom clings to her moscato while another reaches for the pinot noir, we vampires have our preferences. In a pinch though, anything will do. Vampires tend to give off a scent that’s a little too sweet, sort of like molasses. Helps draw in our unsuspecting prey, I'd wager. We tend to be a bit coppery too, probably from all the blood drinking. 

In this case, I couldn’t get a clear scent. Whatever this git was, he had rubbed up against enough people in this club to make it impossible to tell his intentions from smell alone. But, it meant he probably couldn’t get a clear whiff of me either.

“I’m sorry,” I drawled sarcastically, “but I don’t think I was talking to you.”

“You’re not talking to her either,” he growled. “Mind your own business, Blondie.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, I can’t do that, mate. Tonight’s just not your night.” 

I pushed my hands into my duster pockets and glanced over at the girl, who now seemed rattled. “You should go catch up with your friends, Curly. The bride is looking for you.”

She nodded slightly and scooted off the couch, coming to a stand. She put her head down, nervous like, and started off toward the dance floor. Before she could walk past, the bloke grabbed her hard by the arm and jerked her backwards, sending her sprawling down to the couch.

“Stay put! You’re mine!” he ordered, turning to face her. She let out a small scream, too small for anyone more than a few feet away to hear and burst into tears. She was trembling.

When he turned back to me, I could see why she reacted so strongly. He had his game face on. Bumpy forehead, pointed teeth, and all. He let out a menacing snarl, grabbed me by my neck and hoisted me up into the air. I grabbed his arm with my left hand, the other still in my duster pocket. 

“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance!” he yelled up at me.

“Same to you,” I strained out around the vampire’s grip on my throat. I freed my right hand from my pocket. “This is gonna hurt,” I informed him.

He looked down as I plunged the stake I had stored in my pocket deep into his chest. He collapsed into a mound of dust, which scattered about when I landed back on my feet. I rubbed at the ghost of the vamp’s fingers on my neck, then bent down to pick up the stake and place it back in my coat pocket.

I offered the girl my hand, which she accepted cautiously. Tears were streaming down her face. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and wet. “Wha-- What was he?”

“Vampire,” I answered. Her mouth dropped open, and those wide brown eyes of hers darted back and forth between me and the dust pile. “Just don’t go off into any more dark corners with strangers, yeah?”

She blinked a few times, then mumbled a thank you and scurried off.

I brushed some vampire dust off of my black jeans. Good deed for the day done. I mentally placed a checkmark on it and headed back toward the mezzanine by way of the dance floor. I spotted the bride and her friends again. I watched Curly gesturing frantically to the dismissive bride, then physically trying to pull her toward the exit. The bride wriggled free of her grasp. It was never going to work. Curly would either need to leave the club alone and hope that her stupid friends survived the night without her, or spend the evening frightened, constantly looking over her shoulder to babysit the oblivious group. She seemed like a good person. She’d probably stay. 

I checked for Cat again in the crowd, and she found me too. She motioned for me to wait as she navigated her way through the sea of dancers. She was holding a mostly empty glass of something with mint leaves floating in it. When she reached me, she wrapped around me yet again. 

“Isn’t this just so fun?” she yelled, a slight slur in her minty voice.

“Sure thing, love.”

She pulled away, frowning at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Not now at least,” I assured her, “I took care of it.”

Cat looked around nervously. “Something, uh, work related?” 

I nodded. She let out a long “Damn,” then asked, “Don’t you ever get a day off?”

“Not as of late.”

“Come on,” yelled Cat, pulling me towards the exit, “Let’s get out of here. There’s an old pub a couple blocks away. I bet you’ll like it.”

As we walked to the pub, arm in arm, Cat talked about her desire to travel. She wanted to see the world, but hadn’t made it past the border yet. Once we got to the surprisingly respectable pub, and I had a tall glass of Guinness in my hand, I told her about my journeys across Europe and Asia. Of course, I left out the parts about killing a slayer, eating an orphanage, and leaving a trail of panic and death in my wake. No need to make the girl afraid of me, is there? 

A couple drinks later, we traded stories about Buffy, some of which I probably should’ve kept to myself. Like when we literally brought a house down during our first tumble. Yeah, Buffy would stake me good for sharing that one. Cat told me about trying to teach Buffy to drive and how thankful she was that LA had a multitude of public transportation options so the doomed lessons could end. We talked and drank until the barkeep yelled for last call. I settled our tab while Cat used her phone to set up a ride home. Then, we stepped out into the night to wait.

The night air was cool and smelled of the city around us. A bit stinky, actually. Cat rubbed her arms, trying to use the friction to warm herself. I peeled off my duster and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling it tight. “Wow, this thing is pretty heavy. You wear it all the time?” I nodded. “Even in the Summer?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “Room temperature, remember?”

“Oh yeah, duh.” She made a large, sweeping, dismissive motion with her arm that set her off balance. She had to take a step forward to keep from falling. I reached out to steady her. 

“Whoa,” she slurred, leaning against me, “Guess I had a few more than I thought. Damn, I thought I could hold my own, but you! I mean, you don’t even look buzzed and you drank way more than I did!”

“Vampire constitution, love.”

“Right,” she responded, then repeated herself, but drew it out for several seconds. “I forgot that part too.”

Our cab pulled up, and I helped Cat into the backseat. She managed to scoot herself over behind the driver to make room for me to climb in. Cat was knackered. As soon as she buckled in she leaned her head on my shoulder and stilled.

“Thanks for coming out with me, Spike,” she uttered sleepily as the cab pulled away from the curb.

“Sure thing, kitten.”

I wrapped an arm around her back, and she moved her head to my chest. I heard the change in her breathing as she drifted to sleep. 

I looked out my window at the passing buildings. Even with the curly-haired damsel in distress, tonight turned out to be a good time. I glanced down at Cat, who was sleeping soundly, and watched the dim lights of the city reflect off of her hair. Our car slowed as it approached an intersection, but the light switched to green and the driver pressed the gas again. Less than a second later, the cab flooded with bright, yellow-white light. I saw a large, blinding headlight fill Cat’s window just before the truck it belonged to slammed into us.


	4. Chapter 4

The dump truck hit us hard. Our cab crushed around it. The jolt made Cat smack against her door, and she cried out in pain and surprise. I pulled her to me and down into my lap as tight as I could without hurting her, trying to use my arms and my back to shield her. On impact, the horn from the truck started blaring a constant, ear-piercing whine which continued as it plowed into us. Over the honking I heard the cab driver scream, but I couldn’t look up to check on him without risking further injury to Cat. The front and rear windshields crackled as they shattered, but they held in place. The windows didn’t fare as well. The two driver-side windows crunched, sending glass flying within the car. I felt a few shards rip into my back, but didn’t dare move. The truck hadn’t lost much momentum. It continued its plunge into us until the passenger side of our car collided with a streetlight. Our sudden jarring stop made the truck push further into the cab, metal tearing and squealing in protest. It would have sent me flying against my door if I hadn’t braced for it. Finally, the truck stilled. Its engine died with a cough, although its horn continued to scream. I heard our driver moan once, then nothing.

I waited another second to make sure it was over, then sat up. The smell of hot, flowing blood instantly filled my senses. “Cat?” I said. She didn’t budge. “Cat!”

She flinched, then slowly moved upright. “Ow.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked, relieved that she was talking.

“What?” she cried out over the car horn. She made a move to wipe some debris from her face, but groaned, grabbing her left shoulder with her good hand. She took a breath, then shouted, “Something’s wrong with my arm!”

I took a quick look at it. She wasn’t bleeding. It did look a bit limp though. I guessed that it could be broken, based on that hit she took. I needed to get her to a doctor, but she would be all right. 

“Let’s get you out of here!” I yelled out.

Both of our doors were pinned shut: her’s by the truck and mine by the now mangled streetlight. The front passenger door looked like it would still work, but the little cut-out in the cab’s plexiglass divider was too small to accommodate either of us. 

“Guess we’re using the backdoor,” I muttered.

“What?” yelled Cat, “I can’t hear you!”

I motioned for Cat to move against her door, then turned around in my seat and thrust my feet against the rear windshield. My kick launched it out of place, and it landed in the road a good distance away from the car.

“You first,” I called, waving for her to climb out.

Cat turned in her seat, guarding her injured arm, and crouched down to duck through the opening while I helped lift her. I climbed out behind her and jumped to the road. I picked her up off the boot of the car and lowered her to the ground, careful to avoid her hurt arm.

Cat leaned against what remained of the back of the car and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call 911! Are the others ok?”

Bollocks. I was so focused on helping Cat, I forgot about the drivers. “I’ll tend to them, you wait here!” 

I started with our cab driver. Since the truck was impaled into the side of the cab, I had to jump back on the boot, climb onto roof, then down to the hood, and back to the street to get around the truck quickly. It looked as though the rear of the car got the brunt of of the impact, but the driver’s door was heavily damaged too. The window was busted. Our cabbie wasn’t moving.

I bent down so I could see through his window. “Hey!” I called out to him, “Can you hear me?”

He groaned in response. The airbag had gone off in the crash and was now hanging deflated off of the wheel. Fresh blood was smeared from his nose down to the bottom of his neck. It looked like his nose was broken. Probably in a couple places. His left arm was crushed between the seat and his car door. I couldn’t tell how badly it was injured since only the top half of his upper arm was visible. He looked at me with half-opened eyes. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and beads of sweat lined his retreating hairline. The bloke was going into shock. I had to get him out.

“This is gonna hurt,” I warned. My catchphrase for the evening, apparently. 

His door was crunched in, but I was able to pry it off the hinges with a couple pulls. I tossed it a good 40 feet behind me with ease. He screamed out in agony when his arm was freed, then quieted, his head lolling to the side. Must’ve passed out. I pulled him from his seat, carried him a short distance away from both vehicles, and laid him onto the road. I got a better look at his arm. It was mangled from just above his elbow all the way down to his hand. He was missing a finger, maybe two. It was hard to tell through all the gore. Thick, red blood was already pooling in the street around his maimed arm. I yanked off my belt and wrapped it tight around his upper arm to try and slow the bleeding. I bent over him so my ear was near his neck. Despite the noise from the truck’s horn, I caught the weak thrum of pulsing blood. I sat back up and watched him for a second to make sure he was still breathing. He was alive, but just barely.

I then turned my attention to the man in the dump truck. I stepped up onto the little shelf of a stair to peer through the broken window. He was slumped over the wheel against the horn, blood was oozing from a large gash on his forehead. His foot was still on the accelerator. I reached through the window and leaned him back against the seat, which silenced the horn. I listened for a pulse, but couldn't hear one despite the sudden, crushing silence. I pressed two fingers against his neck to double check. Bugger all. He was dead. Should’ve worn his seatbelt, poor sod. 

When I turned back around, I saw Cat kneeling down next to our cabbie. She had a hand on his chest and was trying to push down. She looked over at me, panicked, and shouted, “Spike! I need help! I can’t do CPR with one hand!”

I rushed over to her, dropping to my knees on the other side of the driver. “I don’t know how to do CPR, but I’ll do what I can.”

Cat was all business. She worked her way out of my duster, giving me instructions as she did. “Start chest compressions,” she directed me, “Place one hand on top of the other and thread your fingers together. Put the heel of your hand here,” she touched a spot on his chest, “and push down 2 inches. Let his chest rise all the way before you push again. Do 30 compressions, then wait for me.” I nodded. “Now!” she ordered.

I did as she instructed. Once I hit 30, she tilted his head back a bit, pinched his nose, and gave him two breaths. “Again!” she yelled, wincing and grabbing her left shoulder.

We went on alternating like that for three or four minutes before we heard sirens approaching. “Keep going!” She stood up and waved the two approaching ambulances over with her good arm. She came back and delivered two more breaths before the paramedics took over. 

We sat on the rear of an ambulance, watching as EMTs quickly loaded our driver into the back of the other ambulance and left with lights flashing and sirens blaring. The crew had attached some electrode pads to the cabbie’s chest and had managed to get his heart going again, although it was hard to tell if it would last. A couple of other responders had retrieved the body of the truck driver. It was on a gurney and covered with a sheet. One of the paramedics fitted Cat with a sling on her left arm and wrapped an ice pack around her shoulder. He said it was dislocated, possibly broken too. He lifted up the back of my shirt and switched to tweezing bits of glass from my back. All the while, Cat tried to talk him into pushing her shoulder back into place, but he insisted on a trip to the hospital. 

While he was pulling glass from my skin, his partner pointed to my duster. It was still lying on the street where Cat took it off. “That yours?”

I nodded, and he walked over to it. As he bent down to pick it up, he turned his attention to the car. Specifically the missing driver side door. I watched him turn his head back and forth, searching. He paused when he found the door laying several feet behind him. It had slid beyond the dump truck. Half of it had jumped the curb into the sidewalk. He looked from the unhinged door to the remains of the car and back a few times before picking up my duster and bringing it over to me.

“Thanks mate.” I folded it over and let it rest in my lap.

“How’d that happen?” he asked, tilting his chin towards the unattached car door.

I shrugged. “Not sure.”

He looked to Cat. She faked a perplexed expression and suggested, “It must’ve flown off during the crash.”

“Huh. Weird.” He looked back at the car, then to me again. “You sure you’re ok? That’s an awful lot of blood on your shirt.”

I glanced down. My black T-shirt had a dinner plate sized stain just South of my chest. Must’ve happened when I was carrying the driver.

“Oh. It’s not mine,” I answered, and the EMT nodded.

Both men wanted to check my vital signs, and tried their hardest to talk me into it, but I refused as nicely as I could manage. The absence of a pulse and lack of blood pressure would be difficult to explain. Well, difficult unless I wanted to tell them I was a vampire. Which I didn’t. 

The paramedic hooked Cat up to an IV, connected it to a bag full of clear fluid, and shot some pain medicine through the line. He and the one who rescued my duster packed her onto a gurney and into the ambulance. They let me ride in the back with her. Cat protested the entire time they were strapping her on the gurney, stating she was perfectly capable of sitting like a normal person. Her tune changed once the meds kicked in. Probably hit her pretty hard after her night of drinking. 

Once the doors closed, Cat held up her phone. Her eyelids drooped as she slurred out, “You call her. I can’t think. And the numbers won’t keep still.”

I smirked, taking the phone. The clock on it read 2:57 AM. Guess it’s another early morning for the Slayer. 

“Cat?” answered Buffy, sleep hanging on every sound, “Did you forget your keys again?”

“Not quite,” I responded, “Morning, love.”

“Spike?”

“Yeah, listen. Uh, Cat and I ran into a bit of trouble on the way back,” I informed her. I opened my mouth to continue, but Buffy spoke first.

“Vampire?” 

“No. Well, yeah. But that’s not why I’m calling. Cat and I are on the way to the hospital.” I heard Buffy gasp. “She’s ok,” I hurried, “just banged up her shoulder is all.”

I could hear sheets rustling and her mattress squeak as Buffy rushed out of bed. I heard the flip of a lightswitch and the creak from her closet door opening. “What happened?” she asked.

“Ever hear the phrase, ‘hits like a Mack truck?’ It really is as unpleasant as it sounds.”

“Oh God,” she breathed out, then the sound of clothing shuffling around on the other end of the line paused. “Are you ok, Spike?”

“Fine, pet.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Just a few scratches.”

“Ok,” she answered and resumed what was she was doing. “I’ll see you soon.”


	5. Chapter 5

I sat in the waiting room, still holding Cat’s phone. A nurse had taken Cat back for X-rays, blood work, the whole gamut. You’d think I’d be used to hospitals after spending so much time with the Slayer and company, but that wasn’t the case. Historically, I either put them in the hospital, or I was out doing something stupid, like getting a soul, when one of the Scoobies was admitted. The last hospital I had visited was a psychiatric one. There was this insane slayer, who killed a few orderlies and escaped. I found her though. Got both my hands chopped off in the process, but I did find her. Long story, that. I wondered whatever happened to her. I made a mental note to ask Buffy about it once things settled down. 

I rotated Cat’s phone around my palm, absently staring off into space for a while when I spotted Buffy and Willow rush through the door. They were making a beeline for the information desk. I stood up, put Cat’s phone on top of my folded duster which was in the seat next to me, and waved them over instead. 

Buffy ran forward, crashing her body against me. The force of her made me take a step back, and I returned her embrace to steady myself as much as anything. She was squeezing tight enough that I wouldn’t have been able to breathe if I needed to. 

“It’s ok, love,” I strained out, “I’m ok. Think you could loosen up a bit?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, releasing me, “Oh, sorry.” 

Willow moved in and hugged me too. “Glad you’re all right,” she whispered. A bloke could get use to this hugging thing.

The relief on Buffy’s face melted away once Willow stepped back. Buffy had caught sight of my blood stained shirt and worry lines appeared on her forehead.

“It’s not mine,” I stated, “or Cat’s.”

Buffy offered a forced smile, but it just made her look more upset. Willow put a hand on Buffy’s back, rubbing a couple slow circles across it. She was the nurturing type. 

“Is Cat in a room?” asked Buffy.

I shook my head. “No, they took her for some tests about 10 minutes ago. Back in the ambulance they said she had a dislocated shoulder.”

“What happened?” Willow asked, moving Buffy towards a chair and taking a seat next to her.

I pulled a chair over to sit down across from them, putting my duster on to cover my blood stained tee. I slipped Cat’s phone into my duster pocket. “A truck hit us. The git ran a red light. Must’ve fallen asleep at the wheel or something.” I paused, then added solemnly, “He didn’t make it.”

Willow frowned and Buffy looked down at the floor. “What about the guy driving your car?” asked Will.

I motioned down the hall towards the mass of patient rooms and such. “He’s back there somewhere. He was in rough shape last I saw.”

About that time, a woman and a small girl, maybe 5 years old, came out of the hall and into the waiting room. The woman had been crying, her eyes red and puffy. She picked up the girl, who looked like she was about to fall asleep standing up, and laid her down across a bench seat nearby. She pulled a small blanket out of her oversized handbag and covered the girl up, then sat down next to her. 

“I should’ve come along,” muttered Buffy, drawing back my attention.

“Piffle,” I dismissed, “You couldn’t have changed anything. You would’ve just ended up in an ambulance too. It was car accident, love. Not much you could do about that.”

Red put an arm around her friend. “He’s right, Buffy. These things just happen sometimes.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the women stand up. She took a moment to check on her now sleeping daughter, then walked over to us. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she offered, looking at me, “but I heard you talking. You were in a car accident tonight? Were you in a cab?”

I nodded, not sure where this was going.

The woman wiped her cheek as a tear fell. “Did you save my husband?”

“The cab driver?” I asked, standing to my feet when she nodded. “How is he?”

“He’s still unconscious,” she answered, her voice strained with emotion. “His doctor,” she resumed after loosing a couple more tears, “she said that his passengers stopped the bleeding and did CPR before the ambulance could get there, that he’d be dead if you hadn’t. She said you and your friend gave him a fighting chance.” 

“I-- I hope so,” I told her, not sure of what else to say. 

“Your friend. Is she going to be ok?”

The genuine concern on her face surprised me. This woman may end up losing her husband today, and she was worrying about a stranger she’d never met. I reached out and took her hand. “She’ll be fine. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

The woman tried to smile, but it just made her look forlorn. She looked down at our clasped hands, then her eyes focused on my stomach. I looked down to see my duster had opened just enough to display the dried blood on my shirt. The woman started sobbing. She collapsed into me then, and I patted her back and held her as her tears slid onto my duster. She pulled away, looking embarrassed, and wiped at her face.

“I’m sorry, I really just wanted to thank you and your friend,” she sniffled. The woman turned and looked at her daughter, then back to me. “Thank you so much for helping my husband.”

At that, the woman released my hand and moved back to her seat, brushing her palm over her sleeping daughter’s head.

Buffy, Willow, and I sat in silence as we waited for what felt like days. Willow disappeared for a couple minutes, but returned with coffee and candy bars for her and Buffy to share. She tossed me a miniature bag of crisps. Snack machine food, the breakfast of champions. We munched on our snacks and occasionally broke our silence to mumble about how much we hated hospitals. Hours went by, not sure exactly how long, before a nurse appeared in the hall.

I stood up for a better look and saw the nurse was pushing Cat in a wheelchair. Cat’s arm was in a different sling now, but she was smiling. 

I looked over to Buffy and Willow and tilted my head in Cat’s direction, saying, “Come on, then.”

Buffy hurried up to her friend and gave her a cautious half-hug on her good side. Willow followed behind her, smiling wide. I glanced at the cab driver’s wife and their daughter. The woman met my gaze, and I gave her a polite nod, then joined the girls.

“Hey guys,” chirped Cat cheerily.

Buffy and Willow spoke at the same time. “Are you ok?” said Buffy over top of Willow’s “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Cat responded, keeping the bubbly tone, “They have some REALLY good pills here.” 

We all laughed, thankful for the release of tension that had built up in all of us. 

“I’m free to go,” Cat explained once our laughter subsided. “Doc says there are no broken bones. But I do have to wear this damn sling for a couple weeks, at least until I come back for a follow up. Maybe longer, based on how I’m healing. Then I have to start therapy.” 

Buffy gave Cat’s good arm another squeeze. “The doctor said it could’ve been a lot worse,” Cat continued, looking up at Buffy. “He said an angel must’ve been looking out for me.” Cat locked eyes with me and added, “I think it was someone else though.”

I reached into my duster pocket and handed Cat her phone. “I may or may not have searched through your phone for dirty pictures,” I joked. Cat giggled, but Buffy rolled her eyes.

We stepped outside. I was pushing Cat in the wheelchair alongside Buffy. Willow ran ahead to pull the car around. I looked out across the car park. The sun had come up, filling the lot with a soft, golden glow. Bugger. Thankfully, the patient loading and unloading area was covered, granting me a good bit of shade. 

“Uh, Buffy?” I asked, “Think Red still has that manky blanket in the boot?”

“Oh,” she answered, looking slightly worried. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

“Bloody brilliant.” I sighed. “I should’ve nicked one from the hospital before we left.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Cat, straining to turn her head over her injured shoulder to look at me.

I took off my duster, resting it over one arm. “Wouldn’t be the first time this beauty saved the day.”

Cat turned back to look out into the car park. Buffy looked over at me and wrinkled up her nose. “You realize how creepy your attachment to that thing is, right? I mean, especially now that you’re all souly.”

“It’s my thing,” I defended. “Besides, it’s not THAT one. The original got torn to shreds trying to save YOU in Italy.”

“Original?” asked Cat, without turning around.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered cautiously, exchanging an uncomfortable look with Buffy. “I, uh, got it while I was in New York back in the ‘70s.”

Cat seemed satisfied with that answer, so Buffy and I relaxed. I could have told the whole truth and said that I pulled it off the dead body of a vampire slayer, but I didn’t want to share the “I’m good at killing slayers” part of my past with Cat just yet. I don’t think Buffy was ready for her to know either. 

“Wait,” insisted Buffy, confused, “I’ve never been to Italy.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I recalled, “It was one of your doubles, forgot about that. Angel and I went out there a couple months after Sunnydale cratered. Back when Forehead was playing boss man at Wolfram and Hart. We caught wind that the Immortal had ahold of you. Turns out he and your double were just dating.”

“Oh yeah, Andrew told me he saw you two there,” responded Buffy.

“That wanker! I knew he’d spill.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at me. “You have met Andrew, right? Do you really think he could’ve kept a secret like that?”

“A secret like what?” asked Cat.

“That I was back from the dead,” I divulged, ignoring Cat’s puzzled, “Huh?” in response. I turned back to address Buffy again, “When did he tell you?”

“Pretty much as soon as he got back from LA that one time,” she explained as I shook my head. “He said he worked alongside you. I believe his exact words were ‘the Robin to your Batman.’”

At that she and Cat both erupted into giggles. “Bloody hell,” I sniggered.

“I was just thinking about her earlier,” I told Buffy, once our laughter died down. “What ever happened to that girl? The slayer. Uh, Dana.”

Buffy looked down. “She’s safe. Last I heard she was making some progress. Slow, but getting there. She’s… well, she was pretty messed up.”

“You’re telling me,” I answered, rubbing at my wrist.

Willow arrived with the car. I held the wheelchair steady as Buffy helped Cat into the front seat. Buffy climbed in the back, scooting over behind the driver’s side. I returned the wheelchair to the hospital’s lobby, then got in the car behind Cat. 

“Oops, uh, sorry Spike,” stammered Willow as she watched me settle in under my duster to hide from the sun’s killer death beams. She shifted the car into gear once I was huddled into a ball, then pulled out into the light. “I really need to get a new blanket.”

“Just make it quick, yeah?” 

A small strip at the back of my uncovered neck grew angry and started smoking. I pulled up my shoulders, trying to bury my burning neck down into them with mixed results. Buffy reached over and placed her hand on my neck to cover the bare spot. Much better.

I sneaked a peek out at her from the side of my duster. “Thanks, love.”


	6. Chapter 6

We arrived back at the flat, and Willow pulled the car up as close to the building as she could. No shaded walkway here. This was going to be fun. 

I felt a hand on my covered knee. “Wait here,” Buffy ordered. Her hand retreated, and I heard her car door open, then shut less than a second later. 

I stayed in the car, covered by my duster, until Buffy and Willow eased Cat to her feet. Once the door was shut, I glanced around the edge of my duster and watched as Buffy helped Cat up the two, sunlit flights of stairs and into their flat. 

Willow came back shortly after, carrying a pale pink and white striped comforter. She cautiously opened my door, holding the comforter up to block the sun’s rays. I slipped into my duster in case the comforter didn’t cover my arms well, then wrapped the comforter around myself.

“Hope this helps,” she offered and waited for me to hurry up the stairs before getting back into her car to park properly.

The girls had left the front door open for me. I ducked into the flat, grateful that I didn’t have to burn my hand to turn the doorknob. I shut the door then shed the comforter, tossing it over one of the dining chairs. Wispy tendrils of smoke drifted out from the cuffs of my duster and from around my collar. I got off fairly easy, all things considered.

Cat watched me intently from her seat at the dining table. Her eyebrows were up, blue eyes wide, and her mouth had gone slack. “Holy shit. That is just not normal. You ok?”

“Sure,” I answered, taking my duster off my arm and hanging it on the back of a chair, “Just felt like a stroll on this nice, sunny morning is all.” 

Buffy patted Cat’s good shoulder, placing a glass of orange juice in front of her. “He’s had worse, trust me.”

Cat relaxed a bit at that and took a long pull from the glass. “I don’t know about you guys,” she announced, pausing to let out a big yawn, “but I’m exhausted. I’m gonna lay down.” 

“You don’t want breakfast first?” asked Buffy, “I’m making waffles.”

“You’re cooking?” I said skeptically. 

Buffy gave me a sour look, but confessed, “Eggo waffles.”

“No thanks, Buffy,” responded Cat, “Sleep first, eat later.”

Cat stood up, still a little uneasy, and I took hold of her good arm to help. She smiled appreciatively. “Thanks. For everything. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there tonight.” 

I shook my head. “All I did was tear a car apart,” I explained, “You saved that man’s life, Cat. He’s lucky you know CPR.”

I helped her to her room and told her about meeting the cab driver’s wife in the waiting room. I shared how thankful the woman was for the two of us. Cat teared up when I told her about their sleepy little girl. Guess it hit close to home.

I eased Cat down to the edge of her bed. “I hope he’s going to be ok,” she worried, wiping at a couple of escaping tears with her sleeve.

“Tell you what. Come nightfall, I’ll stop by. See how he’s doing,” I assured her.

“Really? That would be great. I’d like to come too.”

“Looking for a second date already?” I joked. “Sure love, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Cat let out another yawn. I turned to leave, but she spoke up. “I think I’m going to need some help.”

“With?”

She motioned to a rumpled T-shirt on the floor. It was the oversized gray tee she was wearing when I first laid eyes on her.

I swallowed. “Oh. Right.” I looked back at her. “I’ll grab Buffy.”

I moved toward the door, but Cat reached out with her good arm and stopped me. “Oh come on, it’s not like I’m gonna jump you,” she teased. “Besides, if I have Buffy help me with this now, she’ll just treat me like an invalid for the next two weeks. There is no way in God’s green Earth I’m letting that happen.”

I sighed, imagining the chaos that would ensue if Buffy caught me undressing her roommate. Friend or not, it would be quite an uncomfortable conversation. I’d probably get another punch to face. Or a stake to the heart.

“Fine,” I gave in reluctantly, “but this stays between us.”

I turned and closed the door, then picked the shirt up off the floor and laid it on the bed next to Cat. Cat pulled the strap of the sling up over her head carefully, and handed me the sling. I set it on top of her dresser.

“So,” I started, “over the head or down to your feet?” I kneeled down and undid the little buckles of her shoes as I spoke, slipping the red stilettos off her feet and tossing them out of the way.

“Well, at the hospital they had me pull my right arm out of my dress, then pulled it up over my head,” she answered. “I can’t get my left arm high enough, so once the rest of it was off they just pulled it down my arm. I didn’t have to move it at all.”

“Alright then. We have a plan.”

I helped Cat to her feet, careful to avoid her left shoulder. I stared at her for a moment. This was not how I expected this day to go. 

Cat gave me a look that said “what are you waiting for,” so I reached up to her right shoulder, tugged the neckline over, and pulled at the bottom of her sleeve so she could slip her arm up and out. I reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress on either side of her, but paused to look up at her face. 

“You know, I could just rip it off. Right down the middle. Might be easier. How much do you like this dress?” I teased.

“More than I like you,” Cat joked back. “This dress cost me an entire Summer of minimum wage retail hell. I wouldn’t let the nurse cut it off of me either. Just hurry up.”

Still holding the hem of her dress, I slowly lifted it over her thighs, to her hips, revealing a pair of black, barely there, lace panties. I must have had an appreciative look on my face, because Cat poked my chest with her right index finger and reprimanded me in an amused tone. “Eyes up here, pal.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying hard to suppress a grin. And failing. 

I continued to pull her dress up to expose her smooth, tanned stomach. I bunched the free portion of dress into my palms, and decided that for this next part, I needed to be a gentleman. Or needed to pretend to be one, anyway. I turned my ear closer to the bedroom door and paused to listen for any indication that Buffy was nearby. Nothing. Now or never, then.

I looked up at Cat, watching a smile slowly form on her lips as I raised her dress up over her breasts. I managed to maintain eye contact somehow. Bully for me. I pulled the rest of her dress up over her head until only her left arm remained covered.

“Now the tricky part,” I explained, turning my attention to her left arm. Cat stayed still as I carefully tugged the sleeve downward, freeing her arm. Looking Cat in the eye again, I balled up her dress and tossed it over my shoulder with a bit of flair. 

Cat let out a giggle but immediately grabbed her left side. “Ow! Ugh, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, love.” I grabbed her T-shirt off the bed and finally gave in to my ungentlemanly instincts. I gave her a long look up and down, admiring the gentle curves of her body. Stunning.

I cleared my throat. “Sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable like that?”

To my surprise, Cat seemed unaffected by my blatant ogling. “I would be a lot more comfortable actually,” she agreed. “It’s everyone else that would be weird about it.”

“Well then,” I remarked, swallowing hard, “I’d better help you get this on before things get weird.” And before the Slayer decided to check on her roommate. 

We started with Cat’s bad arm, pulling the T-shirt sleeve up to her shoulder. She lifted her right arm through the other sleeve, and I lowered the shirt down over her head. Cat worked on straightening the right side of her tee while I took care of the left side. 

“Ta da!” she announced once we were done, raising her right arm to strike a pose then wincing a little.

“Easy does it,” I warned, chuckling a bit. I retrieved her sling from the top of her dresser and helped her put it back on. “You know, I’ve done a lot of thing in my 150 years, but I don’t think I ever got a woman dressed before today.”

“First time for everything,” responded Cat, then with a bit of flirt in her tone added, “You look damn good for 150.”

“I moisturize,” I quipped.

I pulled down her sheets, helping her to scoot into place in bed, then covered her up. “Rest up while you can,” I said, “Who knows what the rest of the day will bring.”

“Never a dull moment with you, huh?” she replied, her eyelids growing heavy. “Two questions?”

I shrugged. “Why not.”

“Question one: Did you enjoy the show?” she asked with a sleepy smirk. 

I laughed out as I responded, “You have no shame.” 

“I’m getting pretty tired,” she said in a sing-song tone, “Better give me an answer before I doze off.”

I thought for a moment, then told her, “I think it was fairly obvious that I did, kitten. I have a healthy appreciation for the female form, you know.”

“Thought so,” she chirped. “Question two: Were you worried about Buffy catching us?”

“No,” I lied, squinting at her.

Cat grinned wide and closed her eyes. Her smile faded and her breathing began to slow. I thought she was asleep already, but as I turned to leave I heard her mutter, “Cheater.”

I closed her bedroom door behind me and went back out to the great room. Buffy and Willow were sitting on the couch watching the morning news and eating cereal from oversized bowls.

“What happened to waffles?”

Buffy looked over her shoulder at me and answered with her mouth full, “Too much work.”

“Besides, marshmallows,” Willow chimed in happily, holding her bowl up and at an angle so I could see the little freeze-dried marshmallows floating around with her remaining cereal.

Buffy swallowed another spoonful, then asked, “Is she ok?”

“She’s sleeping,” I responded, trying not to look guilty, “Tough girl, your roommate.”

Buffy nodded and turned back to the telly. My stomach groaned loud enough for the ladies to hear from the couch. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled when they both turned their heads to look at me.

Willow swallowed a bite, then asked, “Do you need me to make a blood run?”

I shook my head, walking towards the fridge. “No thanks, Red. There’s still some left. I’ll be fine until nightfall.”

I heard Buffy whisper, “I’ll give you some cash,” to her friend as I poured the remaining blood into a mug.

Once my meal was warm, I moved to the upholstered chair closest to Buffy’s spot on the couch. Buffy scraped out the last spoonful of sugared cereal, then drank the remaining milk from the edge of her bowl. It’s moments like this that intrigued me most about her. Buffy seemed so ordinary sitting there, having breakfast with a friend. But if a baddie knocked down the door, she’d turn on a dime and start kicking ass, then go right back to the dull monotony of daily life. She caught me smiling at her when she lowered the bowl.

“What?” she asked, wiping a drop of milk from her chin.

I just shook my head in response and took a long, sating pull from my mug. Willow reached out for Buffy’s empty bowl once she had finished as well and took both bowls to the sink.

Buffy thanked her friend, then turned her attention back to the news. Her head leaned forward a bit, and she frowned. “Oh... crap.”

I followed her eyes to the screen in time to watch a grainy, black and white version of myself ripping the door off of the cab from the accident. 

“Bugger,” I grumbled.

Willow rushed back over from the kitchen as Buffy turned up the volume. “As you can see from the streetcam footage,” said an enthusiastic reporter as the video replayed, “this unidentified man demonstrated exceptional strength to save a life. Analysts confirm that this video has not been edited. Is he yet another example of enhanced strength granted to ordinary people by a rush of adrenaline, or is he a real life super-man? Some simply say that an angel has come to the City of Angels. Back to you, Jim.”

The station cut to the anchorman, then to commercial. I looked over to Buffy and Willow who were staring at me.

“I didn’t know the camera was there, did I?” I defended. “And even if I did, was I supposed to let that bloke stay put and bleed to death?”

Buffy spoke first. “No, of course not.”

Willow agreed, “You did the right thing, Spike.”

“Suppose I should lay low for a while.”

“No, you’re fine,” assured Buffy, flipping through a magazine from the coffee table, “No one would be able to recognize you from that video anyway.”

“That’s right! The video quality was pretty low,” confirmed Will happily.

“Still,” I said with a sigh, “I have a bad feeling about this. It could be worse though, I reckon.”

I dodged the magazine Buffy tossed at my head. “Great, now you’ve jinxed us!” she complained.


	7. Chapter 7

Buffy and Willow took off shortly after I had my unwanted 15 Minutes of Fame. They decided we all needed a quiet evening tonight, so they planned to grab supplies for a home-cooked dinner. Which probably meant Willow would be playing chef. I took that opportunity to stretch out on the couch for some shut-eye. I was only asleep for a of couple hours when I was awakened by the sound of Cat’s bedroom door creaking open.

I sat up on the couch and looked behind me. Cat was standing in the doorway to the hall. 

“Sleep well?” I asked. 

Cat managed half a shrug, but then grabbed her left shoulder. “Ow! Shit!” she cursed and leaned her good side against the wall.

I got off the couch and walked over to her. She looked miserable. “Time for some of those fun pills you liked so much?” I asked, trying to lighten up her mood.

Cat stuck out her bottom lip, pouting. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I put my arm around her waist and led her over to one of the dining chairs. I found a little bottle of medication on the counter and double checked the name on the label to make sure it was Cat’s. 

“You’re kidding!” I yelled out. I twisted on my heels towards her, held the bottle up in the air, and exclaimed, “Rogers?!”

Cat went from pouting to fuming in an instant. She glowered at me, and I expected her to tell me off. Instead she closed her eyes and sighed. “Just get it out of your system.”

“You’re Ginger Rogers?! Ginger bloody Rogers!” You’d think I’d just hit it big in Vegas the way I was carrying on. “Oh please tell me you had an imaginary friend named Fred!”

Cat had slumped down in her chair, a look of defeat on her face. She was still angry, mind you. She just couldn’t do anything to counter the pure joy I was exuding. 

“No,” she answered reluctantly, “Fred was the dog.”

I lost it at that. “Are you serious?!” She nodded once. “Bloody brilliant!”

Still laughing, I fished a pill out of the container and happily plopped it down on the table along with a glass of water. Cat gave me a dirty look and a sarcastic “thanks,” then tossed the pill into her mouth and took an angry swig from her glass. 

“Oh kitten,” I said through a smile, sobering up as I sat down next to her, “you just made my day. Whole bloody week, really.”

“Oh shut up, you big jerk,” she mumbled, but I noticed the hints of a smile at the corners of her mouth. She took another sip of her water. “I don’t know your last name either. What is it?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Bullshit,” responded Cat. “You were a normal person once upon a time. You had to have a last name. I mean, ‘William’ just doesn’t have the same single-name appeal as ‘Cher’ or ‘Adele.’” She paused, her eyes finally brightening, “Oh my God, it’s horrible isn’t it? Please let it be horrible.”

I shook my head and shifted in my seat, but didn’t answer. Cat’s spirits had been lifted by my obvious discomfort, and she didn’t wait long before resorting to her game. 

She yelled out, “One question!”

“Balls,” I muttered, then took a deep breath. “Alright then. But if you tell anyone I’ll bite you.”

Cat beamed, proud of her victory. “Not one word.” She drew an X over the left side of her chest with her finger. “Cross my heart.”

“I hate you a little for this,” I complained as Cat’s grin widened, “Pratt.”

“Are you seriously resorting to name calling?” Cat asked, annoyed. “Come on, give it up.”

“That’s my name, pet. William Pratt.”

“Oh… really?” She let out a snicker when I nodded. “Well, it suits you!”

I scowled. “Keep laughing, Ginger.”

We were still trading good-natured jabs when Willow and Buffy returned. They managed to get all their bags upstairs in one haul, thanks to Buffy’s slayer strength, no doubt. I was helping Will put away their groceries while Cat moved to the couch and turned on the telly. Buffy started building sandwiches for her and the girls.

“Cheers Red,” I told her when she handed me a fresh container of blood. I poured a mug and set it in the microwave to heat while Willow joined Cat on the couch. I leaned against the counter while I waited for the beep.

“Hey, Spike!” Cat yelled, pointing at the screen, “We’re on TV!”

“Old news, kitten.”

“We saw the footage this morning,” clarified Buffy, handing a plate to Cat before taking the remaining spot on the couch.

Cat shot me a glare, which was quickly replaced with a smug look. “Thanks for telling me, you prat,” she teased, emphasizing “prat.” 

I pointed a finger at her. “Watch your tone, Miss Rogers,” I warned her playfully. 

“Be good, you two,” broke in Buffy. An odd look flashed across her face, but she quickly returned to a neutral expression. Jealousy maybe? Haven’t seen that in a while. 

Cat turned her attention back to the news. The microwave beeped, so I pulled out the mug and took a seat in the chair next to Willow. The news anchor talked about the streetcam video some more, then switched to a clean-cut reporter in his mid-30’s. 

“Thanks Kate,” said the reporter, “I’m happy to share an exclusive interview with Vivian Musgrove, who claims the mysterious man caught on tape tearing away a car door also saved her life that same evening. Thank you for speaking with me, Ms. Musgrove.”

The camera zoomed out to show a curly haired brunette standing next to the reporter. “Oh bollocks,” I moaned, covering my eyes with my hand.

Buffy, Willow, and Cat all turned to look at me, but quickly moved their gazes back to the screen when Vivian spoke.

“Um, yes. You’re welcome.”

“Now Ms. Musgrove, you say you were attending a Bachelorette party at the Avalon Hollywood nightclub when you were attacked. Can you tell me about the assailant?” he asked.

“Sure, yeah. He was nice to me. At first. We were talking, and he bought us a bottle of wine. But then he, he changed. His face just...” She paused, tears welling up in her eyes. “He grabbed me and threw me down. He could have killed me! I was so scared.”

“I’m sure this is difficult,” he acknowledged, “but could you share how you were rescued?”

Vivian nodded, tucking that same loose curl behind her ear. “Um, yeah, ok.” She sniffled before she spoke. “This British man, I had never seen him before, but he said he knew me. He came over and, and… stopped the guy. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there. It was the man from that video, the blonde man. He was my guardian angel. For sure.”

“And why do you think the man in the footage is the same man that helped you?”

“The guy that saved me was wearing all black too. And he was wearing a long coat, just like the one that girl from the video took off.”

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Musgrove,” The reporter then turned to look into the camera and continued, “Another life saved. Some say he is a real-life superhero. Others say he is just a Good Samaritan who was in the right place at the right time. I think we all can agree, however, that this ‘guardian angel’ had a busy evening. Paul Quick, reporting live from--”

Buffy hit the power button and looked to me. “What happened Spike?”

I leaned forward to rest my forearms on my knees. “Vampire,” I said through a sigh. “No one else noticed.”

“Doesn’t this problem come up a lot?” Cat asked her roommate. “I mean, you save people all the time. Why don’t they end up on the news too?”

“No one believes them,” answered Buffy.

Willow nodded in agreement. “People don’t really respond well when you start talking about seeing vampires or demons.”

“Curly was smart,” I explained, “she didn’t mention the vampire angle.”

“So, what now?” Cat asked, looking between me and Buffy.

“It’s fine. It will all blow over,” Buffy dismissed, waving it off with a hand. “Remember that cellphone video of me slaying on campus last month?”

“Yeah, that’s not very reassuring,” answered Cat, “It went viral. It was all anyone talked about.”

Buffy held up her hand and stated, “But only for a few days, then it was back to kitties playing the piano. It’ll pass. People don’t think it’s real anyway.”

“This is a bit different, love,” I pointed out. “Internet videos are expected to be doctored. I was spotted by the city’s monitoring system. Not likely to fake that.”

“It will pass,” Buffy repeated confidently. 

I gave her a skeptical glare. “Now who’s jinxing it?”


	8. Chapter 8

Cat flipped channels until she found one of those dull romantic comedies. The girls cooed over the strong but sensitive leading man. The movie was a bit too cheesy for my taste. I finished off my blood, collected the girls’ plates, and moved to the kitchen to deposit them into the sink. Buffy followed me.

“Plans tonight?” she asked. 

“Plans? No. Uh, wait. Actually, yes,” I stammered. “Sort of.”

“Oh. Ok,” replied Buffy. She tried to hide it, but I heard the disappointment in her voice. 

“I promised Cat I would take her to the hospital after sundown,” I explained. “She wants to check in on the cab driver.”

Buffy gave me a quick nod, then turned to rejoin her friends. 

“Hey Slayer, wait.” I wanted to let her know I’d be free after the trip to the hospital since she obviously wanted to talk. So, genius that I am, I reached out and grabbed hold of her arm at the wrist to stop her. 

She couldn’t help it. It was an involuntary reaction. She gasped and ripped her arm away, spinning to face me and readying a punch. I took a step back and raised my hands in surrender. We managed to draw the attention of Willow and Cat. Both girls were staring at us intently. 

Buffy lowered her fist, then her head, visibly embarrassed. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

I put my hands down and looked over to Red, who nodded. She leaned over and said something to Cat that pulled her back to the movie. Good girl, that witch.

“I wasn’t thinking,” I apologized softly. “My fault, love.”

Buffy looked over her shoulder to make sure the other girls were occupied. Satisfied, she turned back to me. “Can we talk?” Tears had welled up in her eyes and were threatening to spill over.

“Yeah, of course.”

Buffy reached out for my hand. I took it, and she led me out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom. Someone had tossed the previously used sun-shield of a comforter into a mangled blob on her unmade bed. 

Buffy closed the door behind us and leaned against it. “Spike, I’m--”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, so don’t even say it,” I interrupted.

A tear slid down her face. She moved past me to sit at the foot of her bed. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her back. She leaned in against me. 

“It was like I was on that bathroom floor all over again. Just for a second,” Buffy explained, her voice quiet.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just squeezed her tighter. She looked up at me with her tear-streaked face and stated, “It wasn’t you, you know.”

I looked away. “Except it was, love. It still is.”

Buffy sat up straight, breaking my hold. She angrily wiped away her tears as she argued, “Can you honestly say you would try to, to force yourself on someone again?”

“I don’t think so.” I stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Buffy hopped up and faced me with her arms crossed. “Seriously?”

“I’m still a monster, Buffy. Nothing will change that.”

“Oh my God, would you shut up!” Buffy hollered out, startling me. “I only have room for one broody, tortured soul on my friends list, and that spot’s been taken. It’s bad enough that I have to listen to this garbage from Angel.”

She sure knows how to push my buttons. I stood up and got in her face, seeing red. “Why does HE come up every bloody time we talk about anything remotely important? He and I are NOTHING alike! I WANTED my sodding soul! Or have you forgotten?”

“Drop it, Spike!” commanded Buffy.

“YOU brought it up!” I roared back, pointing an angry finger inches from the bridge of her nose, “You wanted to talk about this, Slayer, so I’m talking. Yeah, I got a bloody soul, but it hasn’t changed what I am!”

Buffy knocked my hand out of her face, yelling, “You HAVE changed! Look at what you did last night. Before your soul, would you have helped that girl? That driver? No! You are helping people, saving people, because you WANT to. You’re a good man, Spike.”

I balled my hands into fists at my sides, my anger increasing. I inadvertently vamped out, displaying the demon inside me. “Am I? Then why am I fighting to keep from ripping your bloody throat out!”

Buffy took a step closer to me, craning her head to expose her neck. Her voice became cold and calm. “Do it then,” she challenged, “Go ahead.”

“Don’t tempt me, Slayer,” I warned through gritted teeth.

Buffy stared at me, her expression softening despite my yellow eyes and exposed fangs. She reached up and gently cupped my cheek. I felt the rage drain out of me, like pulling a cork from an upturned bottle. I shook off the vamp face and allowed my hands to relax. My whole body did, actually. 

I opened my mouth to apologize, but she took her hand from my cheek and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shhh,” she whispered. 

Her hand moved from my lips to rest against my chest. “You are a good man. I believe in you, remember? That hasn’t changed. It never will.”

In that moment, I forgot all about us being “just friends.” Long buried emotions came rushing forward, and I wanted nothing more than to cover her mouth with mine. I moved my hands to Buffy’s hips and pulled myself closer to her. She leaned in, settling her body against mine. I felt her warm breath on my face as she closed her eyes. I tilted my head down, nearly meeting her lips when a light knock at the door made us both jump. 

“What!” Buffy yelled, pushing away from me.

The door opened a crack, and Willow’s head poked through. “Hey, sorry,” she began, looking between the two of us as she stepped into the room. “I-- I didn’t mean to, um, interrupt things.”

Buffy flushed. I tried to look casual, but I doubt it came across that way. 

Buffy spoke up. “It’s ok Will. What is it?”

“Well, uh, your downstairs neighbor is at the door. He, um, heard some, uh, yelling and was worried. I tried to tell him it was ok! But, he won’t leave until he sees you.”

Buffy sighed. “Ok, I’ll go talk to him.” She glanced at me, then stepped around Willow and out the door.

Willow gave me an apologetic smile. 

“It’s all right, Red,” I assured her. “Were we really that loud?”

“Kinda,” replied Willow, then quickly added, “but we didn’t hear anything you guys said.” 

I tilted my head down and eyed her expectantly. She knew I saw through the lie. 

“Ok, well, just the part where she brought up Angel,” she confessed. “And the part where you said you wanted to rip out her throat. But that was it!”

“So, all of it then,” I corrected, directing my gaze to the floor and rubbing a hand over my hair.

“You ok?” Willow asked.

“No, I’m not.” I shook my head. “But that’s nothing new.”

“Well guess what? I have some good news,” Willow trilled cheerfully. I gave her a puzzled look, and she continued, “You’re just in time for the end of the movie.”

“Oh goodie,” I said, mocking her upbeat tone. 

Willow laughed. As I followed her back into the living room I asked, “Will, can you look something up for me on your laptop?”

I plopped back into the chair I was in earlier while Willow sat down with her computer on her lap, searching away as I requested. Buffy joined us after a couple minutes, taking her spot on the couch next to Cat. And near me. I was staring at the telly, but I couldn’t focus on that inane film. I risked a glance at Buffy and found she was looking at me too. I opened my mouth, prepared to say something meaningful, but closed my jaw when I caught sight of Cat’s smirk. The four of us sat in awkward silence until the credits rolled. 

“Well!” exclaimed Cat, startling us all. She looked between Buffy and me, “Can we stop pretending you guys weren’t just screaming at each other now?”

Willow slouched back into the couch, making herself as small as possible. 

“Keep pretending,” ordered Buffy, shooting Cat a look that could kill. 

I needed a walk to clear my head. Unfortunately it was still early afternoon, which meant several more hours of confinement. The next best thing would be rest. 

“Mind if I take a bed? I’m knackered,” I asked the girls. 

“You can use my room,” Buffy offered without looking at me.

“Thanks, pet.” I stood up and headed down the hall and back into Buffy’s room.

I closed the door behind me and collapsed onto her bed, face first into her pillow. I turned over, folding an arm behind my head. The bed was soft, comforting. I sucked in a breath without thinking and caught the unmistakable scent of Buffy. She smelled like night air. Crisp, light, but a bit earthy. It was as if all those years spent patrolling cemeteries had caused the California night to soak deep into her skin. I caught whispers of warm nutmeg and the heavy, savory smell of pure power. I closed my eyes, willing the scent to overwhelm my other senses. Memories flooded forward in rapid succession, and I relived us fighting and shagging, bickering and holding each other. Not always in that order. Sometimes all at once. Somehow, I drifted off to sleep.

I opened my eyes and stretched. The room was dark. I must’ve slept for hours. I got up, opened the door, and heard chatter going on in the living room. Cat was lying on the couch talking to Willow, who had moved into the kitchen to prepare their dinner. 

“Hey,” I greeted, sitting on the arm of the couch. I looked around for Buffy. “Where’s--”

“She went downstairs,” interrupted Cat. “She’s hanging out with Fisher.”

“Fisher?”

Cat smirked. “Yeah. He’s cool.”

I slumped a bit, inadvertently. The man at the door. Probably her newest beau. No wonder he was worried when he heard us screaming at each other. 

“Oh. Well, uh, good. Good for her.”

“And he’s super cute,” Cat persisted, “I think it’s those big, brown eyes of his. He’s really affectionate too.” 

My mood continued to darken, which Cat noticed gleefully. “Oh man!” she laughed out, giving me a playful shove, “You are so easy to fuck with!” 

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Ha bloody ha.” 

When she saw how unimpressed I was, Cat sobered up. “Fisher’s a beagle, Spike. Buffy walks him sometimes for Joey. Joey’s the guy that came up earlier when you two were on the verge of domestic abuse.” 

She must’ve seen my moment of relief turn to concern again because she added, “Joey’s a caring, funny, successful guy. He’s also gay. Like, super gay.”

I grumbled some obscenities at her under my breath, but let it go. At least she let me off the hook.

I stood up while Cat snickered to herself, and I headed into the kitchen to join Red. “Find anything on that machine of yours?”

She nodded and pulled a folded scrap of paper from her pocket, saying, “Here you go.” 

I thanked her, then Willow called Cat over to the table for dinner. I took that as an opportunity to sneak away for a shower. A long, hot shower. When I finished, Buffy had returned and was eating with the other ladies. She made eye contact with me when I entered the room, but quickly looked away again. I recognized her avoidance as her way of saying we were not talking about our near kiss. So it’s that old game, is it? Well, if she was going to ignore me, I was going to ignore her. She’s not the only one that’s mastered both physical aggression and passive-aggression.

“Still up for that visit to the hospital, kitten?” I asked Cat.

Willow looked to Cat. “Hospital?” she mumbled out around a mouthful.

“Yeah,” Cat answered, “we’re going to check on our cab driver.”

Buffy chimed in. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, with all the media attention.”

Cat looked to Buffy. “Didn’t you say it was no big deal?”

I raised my eyebrows at Buffy, willing her to suggest that I stay so I could tell her off and go anyway. 

“It’s fine. You’re right,” Buffy told Cat. Then Buffy looked straight at me and added with a cold tone in her voice, “Go ahead.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her, clenching my jaw to stop from spitting some rage-driven retort that I would regret later.

Cat stood up from her chair, faced me, and nodded towards the door. “Great! Let’s head out now. I’m going stir crazy.”

Still angry, I reached out to grab my duster, but Willow cleared her throat to stop me. With an apologetic look on her face, she said, “Sorry, it’s just, well, your coat is, um, pretty recognizable. Maybe you should leave it here. You know, just this one time.” She then fished her car keys out of her bag and handed them to me.

I didn’t like it, but I agreed to leave my duster behind. Best to be careful, I suppose. I opened the front door and held it for Cat as she stepped out. I caught Buffy watching me from my periphery, but I made a point of not acknowledging her as I slammed the door behind me. Full of maturity, I am.


	9. Chapter 9

On the way, Cat recapped the afternoon movie I had mostly ignored. I wasn’t listening to Cat’s commentary, though. I was thinking about Buffy. Or to be more accurate, I was thinking about how bloody stupid I was to be thinking about Buffy. You’d reckon I would have learned my lesson the first go round. Cat was right, “Pratt” was fitting. 

We pulled into the car park, and I took a spot near the entrance. I got out and moved to Cat’s side of the car in case she needed help, but she had slipped out before I got there.

“Oh. Feeling better?” I asked.

Cat nodded. “Yep. I’m getting there. The medicine helps.”

We went inside the hospital and stopped at the information desk. There was a short, attractive woman working the desk. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek french twist, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses. She would’ve look like the “before” version of a sexy librarian if she had traded a tight pencil skirt for the baggy scrub pants she was wearing. 

“Excuse me,” said Cat.

The woman looked up from her computer screen. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“We’re here to visit a friend of ours. Can you tell us which room he’s in?” Cat asked.

“The patient’s name?”

“Oh, uh...” Cat frowned. She looked to me for rescue.

“Butler,” I answered, “Troy Butler.” Cat’s face scrunched up in confusion, but it cleared away quickly. She let out an impressed little “hmm.”

The woman typed his name into the computer. She waited a second, then stated, “I need your names, please.”

“Why?” asked Cat.

“If you are not on the approved visitors list, I’m afraid I cannot give you his information.” 

We blinked at her. “Approved visitors list?” repeated Cat.

The woman peered back at us from over the frame of her glasses. “It is a courtesy we extend to our patients who have attracted media attention,” she explained, sounding as though she had said this exact phrase hundreds of times before. “By limiting visitors to a specified list, we are able to better protect the privacy of our patients.”

Cat looked to me again. I cleared my throat and put on the most charming expression I could muster. “We understand, thank you. It must be hard to turn down well-meaning callers. I bet they give you a hard time, yeah? Blaming you for just doing your job. And a fine job, at that. What’s your name, love?”

The woman behind the desk was unaffected. “It’s on my badge, sir.”

“Oh, uh, right.” I read her name badge. “Bonnie,” I purred, giving her my best seductive smirk, “A fitting name. You see, back home ‘bonny’ means beautiful, and you are definitely that.”

“That’s a Scottish term, sir, not a British one,” Bonnie corrected, unimpressed.

“Right you are,” I mumbled. I sighed and tried a different angle. “Us and Troy, well, we’ve been through some rough times together. We’d really like to see how he’s getting on. Five minutes is all, then we’ll scarper.”

Bonnie didn’t budge. Her features were flat as she responded, “I cannot help you if you are not listed, sir. Perhaps you could contact the family. They are the only ones who can add you and your friend to his approved visitors list.” She folded her hands in front of her and rested then on the desk, adding a bit of sarcasm to her voice as she said, “Since you’re so close.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to try, so I looked to Cat and shook my head. She wasn’t ready to give up yet though. 

Cat smacked her right hand down on the desk, making Bonnie, the not-librarian, jump. “Listen lady, I was in one fucking scary car accident last night. A man died. Mr. Butler almost died too.” Cat started to tear up, and genuine emotion strained her voice as she continued, “I need to know that he’s ok. That something I did made a difference. So no, we’re not on your goddamn list, but we saved Mr. Butler’s life last night. I think he’d like to see us too.”

Bonnie’s hard expression softened. She looked away and clicked a couple keys on her computer. “Room 1016,” Bonnie provided with a sigh, looking dejected, “Use the elevators to the right.”

We thanked her and headed to the elevators. When we were out of earshot, Cat asked, “How did you know his name?”

“Internet.”

Cat’s eyebrows shot up as the doors to the elevator opened. “YOU went online?”

“I’m not without skills,” I bragged, stepping inside. 

Cat gave me a look of disbelief. 

“I had Red look it up,” I confessed. 

“Nice move,” Cat approved with a nod.

We stepped into the elevator, and I pushed the backlit number ten. The elevator stopped at the third floor, and a man dressed in blue scrubs walked in and hit the button for the eleventh floor. He looked at both of us and offered a polite bow of his head. I tilted my chin up in reply. Cat said hi. 

We stopped again at the fifth floor and a woman wearing a lab coat entered and pushed the button for the eighth. She gave us with a brief smile, and we returned the gesture. The woman reached into the pocket of her lab coat and took out her phone. She looked at it for a moment, then slipped it back into her pocket. From the corner of my eye, I saw her look at me briefly, then look away. She pulled her phone back out, holding it up in front of her and looking between the phone and me a few times. I turned my head toward her, and she immediately looked away, flushing red. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and made a point of staring at the doors for the rest of the elevator ride. We got to the eighth floor, and the woman stepped out. She glanced over her shoulder at me once more before the elevator doors shut. Sodding video must be online now too. Perfect. 

We arrived at the tenth floor and followed signs posted along the walls to our cab driver’s room. The door to room 1016 was closed. I knocked lightly, but there was no answer. I closed my eyes to focus, listening for any indication of movement on the other side of the door. I opened my eyes after a second to find Cat staring hopefully. I shook my head. Not a peep.

Cat cracked the door open anyway and poked her head into the room. “Hello?” she asked, then opened the door all the way and stepped inside. 

I followed behind her. Cat took a look at the neatly made bed and spun around, worry disturbing her lovely features. “Spike, you don’t think--”

“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “He’s probably just out for some tests.” 

I noticed a woman’s oversized handbag sitting on a ledge by the window. I remembered seeing his wife with it in the waiting room. I caught Cat’s eye and nodded my head toward it. “Look. His wife must’ve here recently. She wouldn’t leave the hospital without her purse. I bet she went with him. They’ll be back.”

“Good, ok, yeah. Can we wait? Just for a little while?” she pleaded, her voice heavy with concern.

“Of course.” I took a seat in the corner of the room and motioned for her to join me. 

Cat sat down in the open chair. We sat in silence for several minutes. Cat looked more and more worried with each tick of the clock.

“Hey,” I finally spoke up, “what’s eating you?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“It might make you feel better, pet,” I encouraged.

Cat looked down at her feet. “Nah. I’m not good with emotional stuff.”

I didn’t say anything for another minute or two, but I was getting bored so I pressed the issue. “Is it about your parents? Their accident? Wouldn’t blame you if it is. It’d be strange if all this didn’t poke at those old wounds.” 

Cat gave me an annoyed sideways glare in response. 

I put on as innocent a smile as possible, and said, “One question?”

She groaned in defeat. “Ugh, fine. Yeah, it kinda hits home.” She scraped the edge of her shoe against the floor, leaving short, black streaks on the waxed tile. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I was at our neighbor’s house. Did I tell you that?”

She looked over to me, and I shook my head no. 

“I stayed with them a few times a month,” she continued. “My dad did a lot of traveling for his job, and my mom went with him sometimes. I was in bed when the phone rang.” 

She looked back down to the fresh scuff marks, and rubbed them away with the toe of her shoe before she spoke again.

“I knew, even before Mrs. Zhang picked up the phone. I knew it was something bad. No one calls in the middle of the night with good news, right?” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room. Mr. Zhang told me it was a car accident, and that my mom was hurt.”

“He bent down and hugged me when I asked about Dad.” Cat paused and chewed at her bottom lip, staring blankly. “He told me Dad was dead. Mr. Zhang was the one that told me when Mom died, too. He smelled like cigar smoke.”

She lost it at that. Tears began to spill down her cheeks. I moved from my chair to kneel down in front of her, and she leaned forward into my open arms. She sobbed face down into me.

“I’m so sorry, kitten,” I whispered.

She pulled away, using the neckline of her shirt to wipe her face, then dabbed at the tear stains she left on my shoulder. “I ruined your shirt,” she choked out.

I reached out and stroked her hair. “It’s survived worse. How long has it been since you talked about all that?”

A sad expression appeared on her face, and she wiped at her cheeks once more for good measure. “Not since I was 16. I did enough talking in my decade of therapy for a lifetime.”

I stood up, reaching out for Cat. She took my hand, and I pulled her into another gentle hug.

“Don’t get all sappy on me,” she teased when we released each other.

I joked back, “Yeah, well, you know how much I love a good chick flick moment.” 

She laughed, although it seemed a little forced. 

“We should probably head back,” I remarked. “Why don’t we try to visit again tomorrow night?”

Cat nodded. We went back to the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. We rode down in silence, but I put an arm around Cat’s waist for moral support. She smiled up at me appreciatively and rested her head against me. When the elevators opened, we stepped out and saw a small news crew set up in the corner of the lobby. They were interviewing a woman, who had her hand on the shoulder of a man in a wheelchair. His left arm was heavily bandaged, but it was clear he was missing a couple fingers. Then I recognized the woman. 

“Bollocks,” I murmured under my breath, then whispered to Cat, “We need to go. Now.”

I ducked my head down and steered Cat towards the door as quickly as I could without drawing attention to us.

I could hear Mrs. Butler describing our encounter in the waiting room that night and cringed when I heard her say, “He certainly was Troy’s guardian angel.” 

We had almost reached Bonnie’s reception desk, when I head Mrs. Butler say the words I was dreading. “My goodness! Why, that’s him!”

The cameraman and reporter started rushing over to us as I tried to propel Cat towards the exit. Even with all the equipment they were hauling, they were fast. Must have a lot of practice. I recognized the reporter as the man who interviewed Curly. He thrust his microphone into my face, the cameraman right beside him. I pulled Cat closer to me and raised my other hand to shield my face from the camera as best I could.

The reporter started firing off questions, one after another: “What’s your name?” “How did you tear off the car door?” “Do you have enhanced abilities?” “How did you avoid injury?” “Are you the Guardian Angel of LA?”

“No comment!” I yelled as he continued to blast questions at me. We made it to the car, and I ushered Cat inside and pushed the door closed. 

The reporter repeated his array of questions as I rounded the car to the driver’s side. “Are you the Guardian Angel of LA?” he persisted, repeating the question three times in a row, each time thrusting that sodding microphone closer to my face.

I opened my door to climb in and yelled back, “I said no bloody comment!” I slammed my door shut and peeled out onto the road.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy and Willow sat at the table, mouths agape. Cat and I had just finished recounting our confrontation with the media. 

“So?” asked Cat, looking between Buffy and Willow, “What now?”

Buffy shook her head. Willow just looked worried.

I leaned forward and let my forehead thud against the table. “This is just not my night,” I muttered.

I raised back up when Buffy stood. Willow and Cat looked to her too. Buffy pulled her phone from her pocket. It looked as though she was going to dial a number, but she stopped and met my eyes. “You have to leave town.”

Willow and Cat turned to me at the same time. I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

As if they were at a bloody tennis match, the girls’ heads turned back to Buffy. “I was going to call Dawn,” she explained.

“You know how much Xander loves it when you make him babysit,” I told her.

Buffy touched the screen of her phone and brought it to her ear. “He’ll be thrilled.”

Buffy began pacing the length of the table. I heard her sister’s muffled voice say “hello” through the phone. “Hey Dawnie,” greeted Buffy, “got a minute?”

Buffy explained the situation. Before she could ask if Dawn and Xander would be up for a houseguest, Dawn offered up their spare bedroom. 

“Thanks sis,” replied Buffy, “we really appreciate it.”

Buffy hung up and slipped the phone away again. She leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at me. I knew what she was going to say, so I said it instead. “I should go now.”

“What? Really?” Cat asked, looking from me to Buffy. “Can’t you at least wait until morning?”

“They don’t make sunscreen strong enough, pet,” I reasoned.

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting about the vampire thing,” she mumbled.

“I’ll go with you,” stated Buffy.

I studied her for a moment. Buffy wanted to talk now. I could see it on her face. “Nice of you to offer, love,” I acknowledged, “but how are you going to get back? Or have you finally passed that driver’s test?”

“Definitely not!” inserted Cat, eliciting a sour look from Buffy.

Willow stood up. “I’ll go. It will be good to see Xander and Dawn anyway.” She grabbed her sweater and keys.

“Great,” responded Buffy, “I can keep you company on the drive back, then.”

“And leave me here alone?” whined Cat. “No way! I’ll be bored out of my mind! I’ll come too.”

“You birds are mental,” I declared, pinching the bridge of my nose. I turned to Willow. “Just you and me, ok Red?”

Willow nodded. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head. She conceded for a change.

I stood up and gathered the few items I had brought with me. Cat came over and gave me a half-hug with her good arm. “Be safe,” she whispered into my ear, then kissed me on the cheek.

“You too, kitten.”

Buffy hadn’t moved from her spot leaning on the counter. Her green eyes looked glassy, like she was willing her tears to stay at bay. At that moment, I wanted to hold her, to kiss her. Our eyes met, and I wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Doubtful. Best to stick with the classics.

“Slayer,” I uttered, dipping my head to say goodbye. Buffy nodded once in reply. 

Willow had already given out hugs and said her goodbyes to the girls. She was standing at the door, the sweater folded over her arm and her bag on her shoulder. 

I reached for my duster, but Willow spoke up, “Um, don’t you think--”

“Fine,” I grumbled. I left it hanging on the back of the chair. It felt wrong, like I was abandoning a puppy or something.

I joined Willow at the door. She put her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t open it. She cleared her throat at me and motioned towards Buffy with her chin. I glowered back at Red. Will stomped her foot once, making it clear that we were not going anywhere until I said a proper goodbye.

I sighed and turned my back to the door. Buffy had moved from the kitchen to stand next to the table. I walked over to her. “Uh, well. It was good to see you, love.”

“Yeah, you too,” responded Buffy. She looked down and whispered, “I, um, I missed you.”

I reached out and gave Buffy’s arm a squeeze. “I missed you too.”

We stood like that for a second, then she placed her hand on top of mine. “Be careful, Spike.”

I nodded and released my hold, turning back to Willow. “Ready?” I inquired, asking both if she was ready to go and if my goodbye was up to par.

Will frowned, but opened the door. She stepped out into the night ahead of me, and I grabbed the doorknob, starting to pull the door closed behind us. I made the mistake of taking one last look inside. Cat stood by the couch and gave me a little wave. My eyes swept to Buffy, and I saw a tear slide down one cheek. 

Damn. I couldn’t take it. I threw the door back open, walking with purpose until I was inches short of Buffy. I latched my hands to either side of her face and kissed her hard, without hesitation. I surprised her, no doubt there. Once her shock wore off, I felt her hands press against my waist, and she kissed me back. I kept my eyes shut and savored the moment. She let out a quiet moan, parting her lips just enough to grant my tongue access to hers. I heard her heartbeat accelerate, felt the blood pulsating faster under her skin. She tightened her grip on my waist, forcing me flat against her. I lost myself in the softness of her mouth and the scent of her skin. It had been far too long since I had her lips on mine. It felt natural to hold her, taste her, feel her against me. 

But then, I came to my senses. I ended the kiss abruptly and took a fraction of a second to look at her flushed face and appreciate her features. Her eyes began to open, and part of me panicked. I broke away from her arms and heard Cat exclaim, “That was so hot!” as I headed straight out the door. 

Willow was standing just outside, a huge, toothy grin on her face. I rushed past her, bounding down the two flights of stairs with ease. I was on the ground before I heard Willow close the door and start downstairs herself. I made it to the car, opened the driver’s side door, and got in. I covered the top of the steering wheel with my arms and rested my forehead against them. When Red finally climbed in the passenger seat, I rolled my head to the side until I could see her. She was still wearing that same wide grin. 

“Did I really just do that?” I asked in disbelief.

“You sure did you big stud!”

“Bloody hell,” I leaned back, letting my head thud against the headrest. “Let’s get out of here before the Slayer comes out and stakes me.”

Willow slipped the keys into the ignition, still smiling. “I’m pretty sure something other than slaying was on her mind.”

I gave her a sideways glare and started the car. As we pulled away, I licked my lips, tasting the remains of Buffy’s kiss. What was I thinking? As if our relationship wasn’t awkward enough already. I’m such a wanker.


	11. Chapter 11

Willow’s never been one to hide her feelings. Whether she’s hurt, scared, or excited, you can see it written all over her face. But, Will was good at knowing when to act on those feelings and when to keep her mouth shut. We were halfway through the nearly seven hour long ride to San Francisco, and she was still smiling like an idiot over my moment of weakness with Buffy. She could tell I didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t push the issue. There was road trip talk, of course, but she kept it neutral. 

“You can sleep if you want,” I suggested during a lull in conversation.

“Nah. I’m good,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, “I’ve had years of practice at not sleeping.” 

Fifteen minutes later Red’s head was flopped back against the headrest, and she was snoring. Suited me fine. I could use some alone time. I tried to keep my mind blank, to focus on nothing but the road. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I thought about calling Buffy at one point. I could apologize, explain that I wasn’t thinking, and ask her to forget it ever happened. I could even try and blame it on her, since she’s the one that nearly kissed me back in her bedroom. That’s right, I wouldn’t have even considered kissing her if SHE hadn’t stirred up all those old feelings! I felt a little better after I justified my behavior to myself. But, no matter who was to blame, it had happened. No changing that. I was going to have to deal with the consequences sooner or later. I was aiming for later.

We pulled in front of Xander and Dawn’s flat shortly before five in the morning. I turned off the car and gave Will a gentle shake to wake her up. She wiped some drool from the corner of her mouth and stretched her arms in front of her before opening her door. We walked up to their flat, but there weren’t any lights on inside. 

I looked to Willow, motioning to the dark picture window. “They knew we were coming, yeah?”

“Oops,” she muttered, pulling her phone out of her laptop bag. “I was supposed to call them when we were close.”

A phone rang inside the flat, followed by a couple of grunts. I heard Xander’s muffled voice say “hello” from inside followed by his echo coming out of Willow’s phone. 

“Hey Xander, we’re out front,” stated Will. He mumbled something, then Willow hung up and put her phone back into her bag.

A couple minutes went by, but we soon saw a trail of lights turning on. Shadowed figures of Xander and Dawn moved across the large window. The porch light came on next to us, and the deadbolt clicked loudly as it was unlocked. Xander opened the door wide. He was wearing a pair of striped sleep pants and a rumpled white T-shirt. His good eye was squinting against the bright lights. He had taken the time to put on his eyepatch before coming to the door, but his dark hair was still mussed from sleep. The boy lost his left eye during a fight with an evil preacher a few years back. He thinks the eyepatch makes him look tough, I suppose. 

I’m not sure I would call Xander and me friends, necessarily. More like we respect and tolerate each other. He and I didn’t exactly get along early on, probably because of all the times I nearly killed him and the Slayerettes. We’re on better terms now. He prefers me over Angel, so that’s something, yeah? Xander is a huge nerd and a bit of a smartass, but it’s entertaining. He’s the least powerful of Buffy’s crew, seeing as he’s the only one without some sort of supernatural background. But, Harris is good at observing and reading people. Says he’s the “Ma-Ti” of the group, whatever that means. He and Dawn have been dating for a while now, and they live together. It seemed odd at first, seeing as he spent a lot of time around Dawnie when she was a kid. I guess the attraction to older men runs in the Summers family. 

“Hey you two,” greeted Xander through a yawn. He looked over to Willow. “Good to see you Will.”

She stepped forward and gave him a hug. “I missed you!” she announced cheerfully, then kissed his cheek. She let go and peered into the flat behind him. “Where’s Dawnie?”

“In the kitchen!” Dawn hollered from out of view. Willow hurried forward past Xander to join her.

Xander turned back to me. “Well if it isn’t the Guardian Angel of LA.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“Yeah, it’s on the news here too,” he explained. “I wonder how your old pal Angel feels about that fun new title of yours.”

“I can only hope it annoys him more than it annoys me,” I answered.

Xander smirked and nodded. “You and me both, buddy.” 

We stood there looking at each other for a second. Then another. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. Jerk.

“You’re going to make me ask again, aren’t you,” I complained wearily.

“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t been here before,” taunted Xander, “Isn’t it funny that you have this ‘I can rip off a car door’ super strength thing going for ya, but you can’t even get through a doorway without permission?”

I put my hands on my hips and dropped my head to show my irritation. “Do we really have to draw this out every time?”

Xander opened his mouth to crack another joke, when I head Dawn’s voice call from the kitchen, “Come in, Spike!”

I put on the most smug expression I could muster and stepped through the doorway, purposefully bumping Xander with my shoulder on my way in. 

“Thanks for the invite, Alex,” I said with a wink.

Xander shook his head, but chuckled and shut the door behind us. I made my way into the kitchen, and found Willow sitting at the breakfast bar. Dawn was in front of the stove and had a bright red spatula in one hand. She used it to lift a pancake off of a sizzling griddle pan, then placed the pancake on top of another one already on a plate. She was scooping out more of the batter from a large mixing bowl and into the pan when she looked up and saw me.

“Hey you,” she greeted, her blue eyes meeting mine. She set the bowl back down. 

Dawn had her long, dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She was also dressed in sleepwear: a pair of black, flower print bottoms with a purple tank top. She and her slayer of a sister didn’t look alike at all. She was taller than big sis too. Buffy clearly got a lot of her features from her mum, so I guess Dawnie must take more after her father. Either that or the monks that made her just weren’t concerned about things like genetics. 

Dawn isn’t really Buffy’s sister. She isn’t really a girl, either. Dawn was a key that opened a door between dimensions. All dimensions. At once. Long story short, she was an ancient ball of energy that a bunch of monks turned into a girl so the Slayer would keep the key away from this crazy demon-god bitch. The monks made fake memories for Dawn, Buffy, their mum, and anyone else close to Buffy for good measure, so it would seem like kid sis had been there all along. Kicker was, Dawn didn’t know she wasn’t real. Not at first. She figured it out thanks to a bit of accidental help from yours truly. 

Even when I was evil, I had a bit of a soft spot for Dawn. She trusted me when no one else did. You’d think Dawn would’ve been a bit more cautious around vampires, being the Slayer’s sister and all. Although I did have that chip in my head back then, so I couldn’t have hurt her even if I wanted to. I never really thought about hurting her though. Guess I didn’t want to disappoint her. Also I was trying to prove my love to her sister at the time, so killing the Little Bit would not have scored me any points.

Dawn took a few steps towards me and wiped her hands on her shirt. “What have you been up to, stranger?”

“Causing all sorts of trouble,” I admitted, shrugging, “Fairly typical, actually.” I then closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her.

“Wow, when did you become a hugger?” she asked with surprise once I pulled away.

“New thing I’m trying,” I answered. “So far, I’m a fan.”

Xander took the other seat at the bar. He playfully bumped his shoulder against Willow’s, which elicited a giggle from the witch.

Dawn went back to flip the cooking pancake. She looked me up and down, then scrunched her face in confusion. “Where’s your coat?”

I made eye contact with Willow, who frowned. “I left it behind,” I stated sadly. “On purpose.”

“Man, this Guardian Angel thing must be serious,” Xander yawned out.

“Could you PLEASE stop saying that?” I griped.

“Oh, but it’s so fun! I could go with an acronym if that makes you feel better, but with ‘GALA’ people would expect you to plan fancy parties or know a lot about apples or something. We could try out ‘GA,’ but then you’d have people asking you about peaches...” He finally noticed the disapproving glares from the girls and conceded with a glum, “Ok, fine.”

Dawn finished cooking and dished a couple pancakes out to everyone. Including me. We moved into the living room, and the three of them sat on the couch. I took a seat on the arm of the couch next to Xander.

Dawn leaned forward to look around Willow and asked Xander, “Think the morning news is on yet?”

“One way to find out,” Xander replied, picking up the remote control in front of him. 

A meteorologist appeared on the telly, pointing to temperatures hovering over cities and towns on the digital map behind him. I scarfed down the pancakes, which were pretty good, and got up to put my empty plate in the kitchen. I hid out in the kitchen while the weatherman blabbered on, and my mind drifted to the Slayer. Who else. I felt a twinge of guilt, sure that Cat spent the evening interrogating Buffy about that kiss. I could only imagine how well that conversation went.

I heard Dawn gasp and Willow let out an “oh no” from the living room. I hurried back in to see a slightly blurry still photo on the telly. A photo of ME. Blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and all. I sighed and returned to my perch on the arm of the couch.

“This just in from our sister station in Los Angeles,” reported the anchor once the picture of my face had shrunk down into a small square next to her head. “The mysterious Guardian Angel of LA was spotted last night at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center.” 

Footage from the hospital lobby began playing. The video showed me rushing Cat out the door, my hand up in an unsuccessful attempt to block the camera. I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. I heard my recorded voice saying “no comment” in response to the reporter’s rapid fire questions. I looked back up to watch me climb into the car and yell “No bloody comment!” before speeding away. 

The video ended, but my face reappeared at the corner of the screen when it cut back to the anchor. “We have received confirmation that this is indeed the same man who rescued Vivian Musgrove from her attacker at a nightclub and who ripped the door from a car with his bare hands to save cab driver Troy Butler. Where will he turn up next? Stay tuned to News Channel 5 as more information becomes available.”

Xander reached out with the remote and turned off the telly. No one said anything for a moment. But then Xander started laughing. Hard. We all gave him dirty looks.

“What?” he defended between chortles, “This is amazing!” 

“Xander,” Willow reprimanded, shaking her head, “it’s serious.”

“Yeah, I know!” he answered, still laughing, “The whole city is going to be calling Spike ‘Angel’ now. Just think of the looks Angel must be getting when he tells people his name!”

At that, we all started laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but I think we all just needed to break the tension that had built throughout the newscast.

Willow stood up once we quieted. “I better call Buffy and--”

“No,” I interrupted quickly. 

“Why not?” asked Dawn, looking at me with a furrowed brow.

I took a deep breath and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll see the news sooner or later.”

“Spike. Cat was on TV too,” reasoned Willow gently.

I got it then. Red wanted to warn Buffy in case Cat started drawing media attention as well. Because of me. Bugger. I looked up to Willow and nodded. 

Willow pulled out her phone and walked back to the kitchen to make the call. 

“What’s wrong?” Dawn pressed.

I pointed to the telly. “Do I really need to answer that?”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, Hollywood,” Xander commented as he cleared the breakfast plates, exchanging glances with his girlfriend.

I watched Xander disappear into the kitchen, then I looked back to Dawn. “Talk to big sis recently?”

“Just when she called to fill us in on your media troubles,” she responded. She grew more suspicious and asked, “What did you do, Spike?”

I took another deep breath and slowly released it. “Something stupid,” I mumbled.

“You guys get into a fight again?”

I sagged my head and looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “No.”

I watched the realization spread over her face. It morphed into a large smile. “Really?” She was quiet for a minute, but then spoke up, “What did she say?”

I looked down at the floor. “I didn’t give her time to say anything. I left right after.”

“You idiot.”

I looked back at her. She was still smiling, but was now slowly moving her head from side to side. 

“Yeah, I know,” I moaned, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, not that,” dismissed Dawn, “You two are ridiculous! You pine over each other for years, but you’re both to gun shy to do anything about it.”

“You don’t kn--” I stopped, letting the gravity of what Dawn just told me sink in. “She’s pining?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. She’s crazy about you, Spike.”

“She is?”

Dawn nodded mirthfully. I scooted down from the arm of the couch to sit beside her. 

“And she told you this?” I pressed.

“Sure!” Dawn confirmed, then raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, not in the sense where she said those actual words, but--”

“Save it, Niblet,” I jumped in, giving her a weary glare. 

Dawn went to say something else, but Willow came back into the room with Xander at her heels. 

Will held her phone up as she explained, “Buffy’s going to have Cat stay in for a few days. Just until things die down some.”

“Cat will love that,” I stated. 

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as the homebody type,” Xander agreed. “More like the ‘going home with somebody’ type.”

Dawn and I both shot daggers at Xander, and he showed us his palms as he returned to his seat on the couch. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he defended. “To each their own, right?”

“I should head back,” Will announced, “I can help Buffy keep Cat entertained.”

“Just don’t suggest any puzzles, yeah?” I joked.

The happy couple and I talked Willow into getting some rest before she left. Xander excused himself to get dressed for a run for some blood for me and some snacks for Willow’s ride back. Dawn showed Willow into the guest room. It was taking a lot longer to get Will settled in than it should have. Must be time for some girl talk. I instantly regretted coming clean to Dawn, since I’m sure my moment with the Slayer was the main topic of conversation. 

I should’ve tried to get some sleep too, but my mind was too active. I needed to stop thinking about it. All of it. So, I turned the telly back on and started flipping channels. Nothing. What good is it to have 300 channels if each one is showing rubbish? I gave up and hit the off button on the remote. Time to wander around the flat. 

The couch, which seated three comfortably, was set up in front of a large, wooden armoire. It held the telly and Xander’s game consoles. A coffee table sat in between, which held a few decorative coasters, the remote, and some game controllers. Off of the living room were the master bedroom and the guest room. The doorway leading to the kitchen was on the opposite side of the living room, behind the couch. A small dining room was off of the kitchen and to the left of the front door, but they had converted it into a library. 

The library housed two tall, wide bookshelves that were packed with everything from comic books to ancient Sumerian texts. A large photo showing Dawn and Xander kissing in a paddleboat on some lake hung on the wall between the bookshelves. An oversized beanbag chair sat in one corner of the room. Two unimpressive desks with equally unimpressive desk chairs sat against adjoining walls, leaving space for a small, square table in the corner where they met. A printer was set up on the table as well as what looked like a charging station for phones or tablets or something. I assumed the desk closest to me was Xander’s. A couple of empty snack bags littered its surface along with a comic book style Avengers mousepad for his desktop computer. Clearly Xander’s. It’s his fault that I even know who The Avengers are. A picture of Buffy, Willow, and Xander as smiling teenagers sat on the edge of his desk. 

Dawn’s desk was tidy. She had an organizer set up to the left of her laptop which held a few pens and pencils, some paper clips, and a pad of pale yellow Post-It notes. She also had photos on her desk. On one side was a baby-faced Dawn, no older than 5, a maybe 10 year old Buffy, their mum Joyce, and a dark-haired man I didn’t recognize. Must be Deadbeat Daddy. The photo on the other side of the desk was of preteen Dawn, Buffy, and Joyce. Buffy looked to be about the same age as when I first met her. And repeatedly tried to kill her. She tried to kill me back, so that makes some of those attempted murders self-preservation, yeah?

I picked up the picture of the three Summers women and looked closely at Joyce. She was a nice lady. I mourned her when she died. Didn’t even have a soul back then. I smiled at a couple random memories of her. Our conversation about my break-up with Dru played through my head along with my Summers family babysitting session that turned into the two of us watching “Passions” together.

I had just set the picture back in its spot when I heard footsteps approaching. I could tell it was Dawn without turning around. She had a unique scent. First off, she still smelled of pancakes. And of Xander. But under all that was her calming, buttery sandalwood scent mixed with bright lemon-lime citrus. I sound like I’m describing a bloody perfume, but that’s the way Dawn smelled. Those monks probably passed around a few bottles of Eau de Expensive-as-Hell to figure out how to scent her, found one they liked, and emptied the bottle into the mix. Those monks did good work. I heard a slight creak come from the floorboard just inside the door as she stepped closer.

“Lurking, are we?” I asked with my back to her.

“I learned from the best,” responded Dawn. “What are you up to?” 

I turned to face Dawn. She had changed into jeans and a pink long-sleeve top. Her thick, brown hair was still in a ponytail that trailed down her back. 

“Oh, not much,” I answered, “just being nosy.” 

I flicked my head back toward her desk and the photos as I clarified, “Brought back some good memories.”

Dawn nodded, but then looked suspicious. “Friend memories or trying to kill us memories? ‘Cause it could’ve gone either way around that time.”

I looked up and to the left, rubbing my chin in mock contemplation before I responded, “Mostly the friendly ones.”

Dawn leaned against the door frame. “It’s been awhile since you were in San Fran. Anything you want to do while you’re here?”

“No, not particularly,” I said, shaking my head. “Besides, I’m an indoor pup until all this attention dies down. Especially now that the news has spread outside Los Angeles.”

“Ok, well, can I get you anything? Xander went to get blood of course, but if there’s anything else you ne--”

“Beer,” I cut in, looking back to photo-Buffy’s grinning face, “Lots and lots of beer.”


	12. Chapter 12

I had been stuck in Dawn and Xander’s flat for three bloody weeks. A man can only watch so many DIY and cooking shows before insanity kicks in. I was stretched out on the couch, my usual spot, flipping channels. I was dangerously close to going barking mad. I couldn’t even find a decent soap opera to watch. Soaps now aren’t nearly as good as they used to be. All the good ones ended ages ago. “Passions,” “Guiding Light,” and “As the World Turns” were all off air. Even “All My Children” was gone. Not that I’m surprised, honestly. It stopped being good back in ‘95. Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?

I hit the off button on the remote and tossed it onto the coffee table, causing my empty beer bottles to jangle about. I closed my eyes and grumbled to myself, leaning my head back to rest against the top of the couch. I must’ve drifted off in my boredom. I woke when I caught a whiff of dark chocolate combined with hardware store: a mix of metals, sawdust from various woods, and machinery oil. I opened my eyes to see Xander’s face leaning down over me.

“Hey there Mr. McMoochy. Rough day of not doing a damn thing?” he quipped as he tossed his jacket over the back of the couch.

“So glad you’re home,” I drawled, then reached to the coffee table and handed him my empty mug. 

Xander wouldn’t let me use any of their existing coffee cups for blood, so he bought a black one just for me. It had the phrase “Over the Hill and Pickin’ Up Speed” on it in white, block letters. He thinks he’s funny.

He looked down at the designated “blood mug,” then back to me, confused. “Looks like I could use a refill,” I stated expectantly.

Xander scowled at me, but I started laughing. I stood, gathered my empty beer bottles, and grabbed the mug out of his hands. 

“Lighten up, Number 2,” I told him, moving to the kitchen. I dropped the bottles into the recycling bin and opened the fridge, yelling out to him, “Want some?”

He faked a series of guttural gags, but then called out, “No thanks, but I will take a beer.” 

I heated my dinner and retrieved a beer from the fridge. I headed back to the living room to join Xander, who had sprawled across the length of the couch. I put the beer down in front of him and shoved his feet off the couch to make room for me to sit. Xander straightened up, then opened his drink. He raised it up and clinked it against my mug.

“Here’s hoping this Guardian Angel thing goes away soon,” he remarked. 

I took a sip of blood and sighed. “Not soon enough, mate. Anything new?”

“Not really. Same crap, different day,” he muttered. “A reporter followed Cat around campus again yesterday, but other than that it’s just been a bunch of people saying they saw you in random places all over the city.”

In the past three weeks, the “Guardian Angel of LA” had been sighted doing various acts of kindness. Everything from pulling a woman out of a burning building to rescuing puppies from a storm drain. All while sporting platinum blonde hair, black clothes, and a black leather duster. There were eyewitness reports, pixelated cellphone videos, and grainy security camera images to prove it.

“Bollocks. Xander, I don’t think I can take this much longer! Someone’s running about, pretending to be me. Why? What’s the bloody point?” I swallowed down another gulp from my mug. I nearly broke it when I slammed it down on the coffee table inadvertently. “I’m on the verge of either shoving my foot through that idiot box of yours or renovating your entire kitchen!” 

“You know, there is something you could do to help pass the time. Someone you could talk to perhaps…” He gave me the same look he always did when he brought her up.

“No, Xander.” I glared at him from over the edge of my mug as I took another swig. “And don’t even think about rolling your EYE at me.”

He did anyway. “Just call her! Man up, man!”

“If she wanted to talk to me, she’d ask for me,” I reasoned.

“You two…” Xander shook his head and sighed. “She’s just as stubborn as you are.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We both looked to the front door when Dawn opened it, school books and a couple grocery bags in hand. “Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey,” Xander and I responded at the same time. 

“Yeesh,” said Dawn, setting her books and groceries on the coffee table. “You guys are spending way too much time together.”

“Tell me about it,” we replied in unison again. Xander and I exchanged disturbed looks, causing Dawn to let out a giggle. She sat down on the arm of the couch next to Xander, and he reached up to put a hand on the small of her back.

I took one last swig of my blood and set off to the kitchen with my empty cup and Dawn’s groceries so the couple could have a moment alone. They were good together. Bit of an age difference. Then again, I fancy a girl over 100 years my junior. Who am I to judge. 

I heard more giggles followed by smacking lips coming from the living room, so I took my time stocking the fridge and washing and drying my mug. I was putting it back in its Xander-approved spot in the cabinet when Dawn’s phone rang.

“Hey Buffy,” I heard Dawn say. 

I hurried back into the living room to see Dawn standing at the end of the couch, holding the phone to her ear and frowning. Dawn looked up at me. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She paused, listening to her sister. “Buffy, I’m looking right at him!”

Xander and I exchanged glances, both of us matching Dawn’s worried expression. “Yeah, he’s been here the whole time,” she continued.

I reached for the phone. Dawn said, “Hold on a sec, Buffy.” 

She handed it to me, and I brought the phone up to my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Spike.” It was nice to hear Buffy’s voice. Even if she sounded concerned and slightly angry. “You’re all over TV.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I left, remember?”

She huffed into the phone. “No, this is NEW. And it’s bad. I just watched you break into an electronics store. And there are other reports of… worse.”

“Like what?” All I got was silence from the other end of the line. “Buffy, what happened?”

I heard her lick her lips. “One man told the news he was jumped, mugged. He-- he was in the hospital with some broken bones.”

I growled into the phone. “I thought this copycat git was helping people, not hurting them.”

“Someone’s trying to frame you, Spike. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

I shoved the phone back towards Dawn, who removed it from my hand cautiously. If she hadn’t taken it, I would have thrown it through the bloody floor. I started pacing behind the couch. Dawn asked her sister a series of questions I didn’t hear the answers to: “Who is this guy?” “What do we do now?” “Why would someone do this?” “What can I do to help?”

Next thing I knew, my hand was inside the wall that divided the living room and the kitchen. Dawn and Xander hurried over to me. 

“Uh, Buffy, I gotta go,” Dawn rushed out, giving me a concerned look, “Call me if you find anything.”

She hung up the phone, and I yanked my fist out of the wall. Chunks of drywall came out with it. 

“Are you hurt?” Dawn demanded. I shook my head.

“Feel better?” Xander asked. “It helps, doesn’t it?”

“No,” I answered, but then admitted, “Maybe a little.” I did feel better, actually. The anger that was boiling up inside me had dissipated when my fist connected with the wall. Guess a little violence is good for the soul. 

“Looks like I’m patching drywall tonight,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, mate,” I muttered, bending down to retrieve the loose bits of drywall, “If you pick up the supplies for me, I’ll patch it up.” 

He cocked his head at me. “Say again?”

“I’m an expert in DIY now,” I bragged, “thanks to three weeks of nonstop HGTV.”

Xander grabbed his jacket and took off to the hardware store. I helped Dawn clean up the mess of drywall dust I had left behind. 

“Big sis have any leads?” I asked, sweeping the last of the dust into a small pile.

Dawn squatted down with a dustpan, and I scooted the pile onto it with a few sweeps. “Not really,” she answered, “but she’s checking. She and Angel are going to patrol tonight.”

“Angel?” I moaned. “That ponce? He’ll just get in her way.”

Dawn gave me a knowing look and moved to the kitchen. I followed behind her. She emptied the dustpan into the bin as she defended her sister. “Buffy needed some help. Besides, I doubt they’re going together. It’s a big city! They’ll probably divide and conquer.” 

I sighed and plopped down at the breakfast bar. “Yeah, I suppose.”

When Xander returned I set about patching up the fist-shaped hole in their wall while Dawn started cooking dinner. When I finished, Xander reviewed my work. He rubbed his chin and said “Hmmm” several times.

After a minute he clapped me on the back. “Not bad for a dead guy.”

“Sorry again. Truly.”

“Listen,” Xander started, “I know you’re angry, and you’re feeling helpless about--”

“I’m NOT helpless! And I’m not angry!” I countered, my temper flaring despite my words.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Right, ok fine. And killing walls is perfectly normal,” he retorted. 

He waited for my fists to unclench, then said, “Dependent, stuck, powerless, caged, whatever. Pick an adjective. You’re used to being a starter, but now you’ve been benched, and it sucks. But, there’s more than one way to fight. Trust me on this one. The three of us will do what we can from here. We can go into research mode, look up anyone that might know you well enough to pull this off. Maybe there’s some kind of copycat demon or shapeshifter we can identify. We’ll find this guy, and we’ll stop him. You can’t let it get to you, Blondie Bear. That’s what he wants.”

“Yeah, all right,” I conceded, running a hand over my hair. “Research it is. Thanks for the pep talk.”

Xander nodded. He turned to head into the kitchen, but I called out to him. “Hey Xander?” He turned back towards me. “Don’t call me that again unless you want to lose your other eye.”

“Noted,” he replied and disappeared into the kitchen.


	13. Chapter 13

After they ate dinner, Dawn, Xander, and I gathered in their library. Xander had plopped down in the beanbag chair and was flipping through a large demonology text. He had gathered similar books from their shelves and stacked them on the floor next to him. Dawn sat at her desk playing the latest videos of the “Guardian Angel” frame by frame, hoping for a clear view of his face or some other distinguishing feature. I sat at Xander’s desk, drinking a beer while I drew little winged, black-clad stick figures with Xs for eyes and exaggerated frowns on the bottom of a sheet of paper. 

“Well, isn’t this is fun,” I mused with as little enthusiasm as possible.

Dawn paused the video and peeked over at my work. She scowled. “Are you doodling dead angels? Spike! You’re supposed to be making a list for us,” she scolded. “Enemies, former contacts, acquaintances, anyone that might know you well enough to pull this off.”

“I did, Dawnie. It’s all here.”

Xander stuck out his hand without looking away from his page, and I gave him my list. 

I watched him read it over. “Hey!” he exclaimed, causing Dawn to spin in her chair to face him. “Our names are on this list!”

“You said ‘anyone that knows me well,’ so…”

“Angel’s on here twice,” he reported as he kept reading down the page.

“Three times, actually.” I pointed a finger near the bottom of the list. “Right there. See? ‘Neanderthal.’”

“Really?” Dawn crossed her arms in front of her, annoyed.

“What? He’s more likely to screw me over than anyone else on that paper.”

This time the Little Bit just gave me a cold, disapproving glare. Now I see the family resemblance. 

I sighed, throwing my head back. “This is pointless. If there were any clear pictures of him, it would be all over the news already. And, my sodding list isn’t helpful since any baddie on there is either too stupid to pull off something this big or is already dead. Or Angel.” I stood up and thrust both hands toward the window while I argued, “I need to be out there, on the streets, tracking this git down! I can’t do anything sitting in a beanbag chair over 300 miles away.”

Xander held up a hand as if he was sitting in class waiting for the teacher to call on him. “Ok, first of all, I called the beanbag. Second, you can’t go to LA, my peroxide pal. You’ll get spotted instantly.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Dawn interrupted, “He’s right. Sorry.”

“There’s got to be something we can do!” I begged. 

Xander and Dawn looked away. They appeared to be as defeated as I felt. I collapsed back into the desk chair and held my head in my hands. I wanted to cry. Not that I would, but I wanted to. 

Dawn reached over and placed a hand on my knee. “I do have one idea. I’m pretty sure it would work. But... you’re not going to like it.”

“Anything,” I answered, raising my head so she could see the desperation on my face.

“In that case,” she stated, “I think it’s time to change your look.”

She eyeballed Xander expectantly, and he straightened up, nodding. “Uh, yeah, that’s right. Black clothes and bleached hair are so last century.”

“Well? What do you think, Spike?” Dawn pressed cautiously.

“First my duster, and now this,” I murmured under my breath. I looked between the couple. “Fine. I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

A few hours later I was shirtless and seated on the lid of the toilet. Dawn was leaning against the countertop next to me, rubbing her dark-stained, gloved hands together nervously. 

“Just a few more minutes,” she told me.

Dawn had left the flat immediately after I agreed to the “makeover,” as Xander was calling it. She had returned toting a box of hair dye, a couple pairs of blue jeans, a pair of khaki trousers, and four polo shirts in bright, cheery colors. My worst nightmare come true. Mediocrity, here I come. 

A timer went off, and Dawn had me lean my head into the tub to rinse out the dye. I watched dark water swirling down the drain for a few minutes until it faded and eventually turned clear. Dawn turned off the water and passed me a towel.

I rubbed at my hair to coax it dry. “Who do I get to blame for this again?” I grumbled.

“That would be me,” Dawn reminded me, “but it’s a wonderful idea so shut up.”

I tossed the wet towel into a laundry hamper by the door. When I looked back to Dawn, she was grinning. 

“That bad?” I asked.

“You look great, Spike,” she assured me, “Really. Now you just have to get changed and your transformation will be complete.”

“Transformation,” I snorted, “I’m not a bloody butterfly, Niblet.”

“Not yet, but you will be.” She grabbed a comb off the counter and started running it through my now brown locks. 

“I am capable of doing this myself, Dawnie,” I said, but remained still as she worked the comb through my hair.

“We should style it a little different, too. Just to be safe,” she explained, and I felt her draw a long part just left of the middle of my head. 

Dawn finished and took a step back to admire her work. She smiled proudly and picked up the stack of clothes sitting on the counter. She handed me the dull khaki trousers, a red polo shirt, and one of Xander’s brown leather belts. 

“Get changed,” she directed, “I’ll call Buffy and let her know we’re coming.” 

At that, she closed the bathroom door behind her, leaving me alone. I looked down at the clothes in my arms. Too late to turn back now.

I looked down to examine myself as best I could. I double checked to make sure my shirt was tucked in all around before I opened the bathroom door. Dawn and Xander were cuddled up on the couch and didn’t see me at first. 

“Well?” I asked. I took a few steps forward, raised my arms so they were parallel with the floor, and made a slow spin.

Xander’s mouth dropped, and Dawn grinned wide.

“Holy... Wha? Whoa,” stammered Xander. He looked me up and down, then let out another, “Whoa.”

I looked up to the ceiling and shook my head. “I regret every bit of this,” I groaned.

“Hey, come here,” coaxed Dawn as she got up and ran over to me. She wrapped her arm around mine and started tugging me towards the couch. “The whole idea is to make you look like, uh, not you. Right?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” I agreed reluctantly as Dawn tugged me down to sit next to her.

“Well it worked!” announced Xander, looking me over again. “You look like a math teacher.”

I let my head drop. “Alright Captain Ron. Let’s get this over with.”

Xander’s eye sparkled. “You look like someone who’d try to sell me an extended warranty on a DVD player.”

Dawn giggled and joined in too. “You look like you work at a mall.”

Xander quirked his head at Dawn. “Hey, is it casual Friday already?” 

“On your way to the PGA Tour?” Dawn asked through another giggle.

“You look like Steve from ‘Blue’s Clues.’”

“You look like my dad!” 

I narrowed my eyes at Dawn for that last one. She and Xander froze. Dawn cleared her throat and mumbled out, “Um, sorry.”

“Get ahold of your sister?” I asked Dawn while Xander suppressed a chuckle.

She nodded, still looking guilty. “Uh, yeah. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to come, but I told her we weren’t giving her a choice.”

“Thanks for that,” I responded. I looked between her and Xander. “You two all packed?”

“Yep, our stuff’s already in the trunk,” confirmed Xander. 

“Are you ready to go?” Dawn asked me.

I stood up and answered with a sneering, “Yeah. Let’s end this bastard.”

Xander stood up too, but wagged his finger in my face. “Watch you language buster, or Target might just give you the axe.”

I shoved Xander back down on the couch.


	14. Chapter 14

The trip back to Los Angeles was uneventful. Xander insisted on driving at first, but we switched off a couple hours outside of San Francisco so he and Dawn could get some sleep. I lifted my eyes to the rearview mirror. Dawn was curled up into a little ball. Her head was resting in Xander’s lap. His head was lolled against the back of the seat, and his right arm was draped over Dawn. The corner of my mouth pulled up a little looking at the two of them. I idly wondered what Joyce would think about it. She’d probably approve. He wasn’t a vampire, so Dawn was already doing better than Buffy had.

Buffy. I felt my stomach flip as I thought about seeing her. Would she be glad to see me? Doubtful. She was probably busy staring into the broody, brown eyes of that forehead with legs anyway. Tosser. I bet he was loving this whole thing. He was always looking for some reason to swoop in and save the day, and now he had his bloody chance.

I spent the rest of the drive fuming silently. I was tempted to turn around a couple times, but my desire to pummel whoever was pretending to be me won out. The sky was starting to turn shades of amber and pink. Beautiful, but deadly. Bollocks, now sunrises remind me of Buffy.

I parked in front of the flat, stomping on the brake a little harder than necessary to wake the sleeping couple in the backseat. Xander and Dawn climbed out while I opened the trunk and began pulling out luggage. 

Xander stretched his arms out above his head. “Dawn, why don’t you head on up?” Xander said through a yawn. “Spike and I can bring in our stuff.”

He watched Dawn bound up the stairs, then picked up his suitcase and one of hers. I grabbed my bag containing my new, boring clothes and Dawn’s other two suitcases. 

I closed the trunk and followed Xander up the stairs. “Did the Little Bit pack her entire closet?” I asked.

Xander was breathing hard, and we hadn’t even reached the second set of stairs. “She IS a Summers,” he answered, adding, “For now, anyway.”

I froze mid-step. “For now?”

Xander stopped too. He set the bags down on the stair in front of him and turned to face me, his voice rapid but at a whisper, “I didn’t mean to let that slip. Listen, I haven’t asked her yet. Please don’t say anything.”

“Do you have a ring?” I whispered back.

Xander nodded, patting over top of the inside pocket of his jacket. “I bought it a month ago. I was thinking I’d take her out for a big, romantic dinner, but then all this happened, and--”

“And I got in the way,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “Xander, if I had known…”

He waved it off. “It’s fine. I didn’t have the details planned out anyway. Just keep it to yourself, ok?”

“Of course,” I answered, then mentioned, “I think it’s bloody brilliant, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he said with a big, cheesy Xander grin. “Thanks.”

I smiled back. I felt a familiar tingle at the back of my neck and looked out over the car park. The sky was turning orange, and I could see the top of the sun brushing the horizon. “Hate to ruin our moment, loverboy, but can we get inside?”

Xander followed my gaze and responded, “Oh, yeah, better hurry.” He grabbed his bags, and we each took the remaining stairs two at a time.

Xander opened the door and set the bags to the side. Despite being nearly out of breath, he practically ran to the kitchen area of the great room and swooped Buffy up in a hug. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a full circle. 

“Xander!” cried Buffy, laughing. He set her back down and gave her another squeeze. “I missed you too.” 

When he spotted Willow, he gave her the same treatment. “You just saw me a few weeks ago!” Will exclaimed mid-spin. 

“Yeah, but isn’t this fun?” Xander gushed. 

I guessed his better than average mood had something to do with our conversation on the stairs, but honestly with Xander it’s hard to tell. 

I was enjoying the Scooby reunion when the back of my arm caught fire. I jerked out of the sunlight and frantically swatted at my flaming arm. I grumbled out a series of curses until I managed to put myself out, feeling daft for not closing the door behind me. I kicked the door shut, which caused a bit of smoke to billow from the bottom of my pant leg. 

When I turned back to the group, they were all staring at me. Dawn got that same proud look on her face and leaned against a smirking Xander. Willow was slack-jawed, and I heard Buffy whisper, “Holy crap.”

“Hi,” I greeted, uneasy.

“What do you think, Buff?” asked Xander, “Spike won’t have trouble blending in now, huh?”

Buffy took a couple steps towards me, and I felt a lump growing just North of my Adam’s Apple. I cleared my throat, hoping to push away the sensation, but it didn’t help. She stepped up close to examine me, then started circling around me. 

“Uh, hey Slayer,” I said awkwardly, craning my neck as she rounded my back.

“No way,” she whispered when she made the loop to face me again. “You’re so… I mean, you look so… different.”

Buffy was still standing uncomfortably close, then Willow came over to join her. I felt like an attraction at the zoo. Dawn stepped up and proceeded to point out every detail of my new look. Buffy and Willow praised Dawn for her work as if I were some statue she had chiseled from a block of marble. I allowed it for a few minutes, but the whole thing was getting ridiculous. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” I declared, throwing my hands up in front of me to part the ladies out of my way. I stomped over to the kitchen table and sunk into a chair, crossing my arms tight to keep from murdering another wall. 

“Don’t you all have something important you should be doing?” I griped, “Like finding the wanker that’s pretending to be me?”

“Right, of course,” apologized Willow. She turned to Dawn. “Why don’t you start unpacking? Buffy’s going to put you guys up in her room. Go ahead and put Spike’s things in there for now too.”

Will then addressed me. “Is the couch ok with you, or would you rather have the air mattress?”

“I used to sleep on top of a concrete slab,” I responded, “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

Willow nodded then told Xander, “We’ll need some supplies.”

“On it!” Xander announced with an exaggerated salute. “Donut Man, away!”

I tossed him his car keys, and he disappeared out the door. Will didn’t need to tell him what to get. He was after the essentials: diet soda, donuts, and blood. Just like the old days.

Buffy and Willow huddled together by the bookshelf, flipping through various texts. Dawn headed to the suitcases. I decided to help her out, but paused when I saw Cat poke her head around the hallway entrance and into the room. She was wearing a brown, oversized T-shirt that read: “I put my root beer in a square cup and now I just have a beer.” I noticed she wasn’t wearing the sling anymore. I bet she was happy about that. Or would be, once she got some coffee in her. 

“My God, could you guys be any louder?” Cat moaned, staggering into the kitchen. She went about her typical morning ritual of heading directly to the coffee pot, not paying a bit of attention to the man following along behind her. Must be her latest conquest.

“Morning,” I said to Cat’s back as she poured a cup. I got a grunt in reply. Should’ve expected as much.

“Uh, hi,” said the man hesitantly. He was young, early 20s probably. Obviously wearing last night’s wrinkled clothes. They still smelled of liquor and stale sweat.

He turned his attention back to Cat, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. The man bent down and whispered in her ear but I could hear it. Me being a vampire, and all. “Thanks for a hot night, baby. I’ll call you.”

She mumbled out a little “Uh huh,” then wiggled out of the bloke’s grasp. She took a few sips of her coffee as she wandered back down the hall to her room, leaving the man standing awkwardly in the kitchen. I heard her door shut a second later. 

“Chipper as ever,” I commented to him. “Don’t take it personally, mate. She’s not a fan of mornings.”

He nodded, then offered a polite wave as he passed Dawn on his way out the front door.

Dawn picked up a couple bags and started hauling them towards Buffy’s room. I grabbed the rest and followed behind her.

As we passed by Willow and Buffy, I cleared my throat to get their attention. “Uh, sorry to barge in,” I interrupted, then looked to Buffy, “My duster?”

“It’s safe. It’s hanging in my closet,” she replied. One corner of her mouth turned up a little when she added, “I know how much you love that dumb thing.”

“Cheers,” I thanked her, and continued to follow Dawn down the hall into Buffy’s room. 

We set the suitcases at the head of Buffy’s bed, and Dawn started digging makeup and hair products out of one of the bags.

“Someone seemed happy to see you,” Dawn teased while wagging her eyebrows at me.

I sat down on the side of the bed. “She was just surprised,” I huffed. “New look and all.”

Dawn pushed her bag to the middle of the bed and sat down next to me. “I know my sister, Spike, and that was not just surprise.”

‘Yeah, well, technically I’ve known her longer than you, and I say otherwise.”

She glared at me, persisting, “She missed you. I can tell.”

“Dawnie. Let it lie.”

She sighed, shaking her head, but humored me. She stood back up and busied herself with unpacking. I heard the shower turn on. Cat, I assumed.

From my spot at the edge of the bed, I could see into Buffy’s open closet. It was a little dark inside, but I spotted the arm of my duster near the back. It looked like Buffy had tucked it away behind a couple of her jackets. I felt better seeing it there. It was a reminder that I could return to being myself once this was all over.

“Spike?” I startled a bit. Dawn had caught me staring off into space, lost in thought.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” she asked, concern coating her words.

“Yeah, Dawn, I’m fine,” I told her, “I’m just anxious to find this bugger and get on with my life.”

“I can’t imagine how weird this is for you,” she mentioned, placing Xander’s folded shirts into a dresser drawer Buffy must’ve cleaned out for them. “I mean, you’re basically hunting yourself.”

“It is odd,” I agreed, “but it’s safe to say you’ve had weirder things happen to you, innit?”

“You’re not wrong.”

There was a soft knock at the open door, and I looked over to see Buffy standing in the doorway. “Hey,” she said to Dawn, then asked me, “got a minute?”

That lump in my throat returned, and I swallowed hard. “Uh, well...” I looked over to Dawn, who was already working her way toward the door. “Yeah, yes. Sure.”

Dawn stopped short of the door to give her sister a quick hug. She winked at me and threw out an enthusiastic thumbs-up from behind Buffy’s back, then closed the door as she left. I was in Buffy’s bedroom, alone, with Buffy. My stomach made a couple leaps up into my chest. It’s safe to say I was nervous. Beyond nervous.

“Good thinking,” she blurted out. I met her eyes and must’ve looked confused, because she clarified, “The new clothes, the hair. It will definitely keep the media from recognizing you.”

I pointed towards the closed door as I replied, “Yeah, well, you’ll have to thank kid sis for that one.” I squinted up at Buffy, adding, “It’s weird though, yeah? I mean, look at me.”

Her eyes swept over me once more. “Uber weird,” she agreed, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You’re still you though,” assured Buffy, starting to sober up. “Just a little, uh, Stepfordy.”

“Stepfordy?” I repeated, turning up my nose, “Not your best work, Slayer.”

Buffy ignored my comment and sat down next to me. “How was San Francisco?” 

Small talk? That’s not really our style. I studied her face for a moment. She looked as though she had a lot on her mind. Guess she had to build up some confidence first. I can’t blame her. I wasn’t ready to dive right in either. 

“I spent three weeks squatting on your sister’s couch watching home improvement shows,” I answered, “Worst vacation ever.”

“I kind of feel responsible,” she said apologetically, “If I hadn’t been so laid back about the video and the TV interview with that bridesmaid, you wouldn’t have gone to the hospital. No ‘caught on camera’ moment for you then.”

I snorted. “Yeah I would’ve. I was furious with you, remember? I still would have gone, even if you told me not to. Just to spite you.”

Buffy looked down at her feet. “Yeah. Sorry about that too.”

She was in the apologizing mood, so it seemed like a good time to work mine in. I cleared my throat. “Uh, Buffy, about the night I left, I shouldn’t have--”

“Stop,” Buffy ordered, her voice forceful but soft. “Don’t, Spike. Please.”

“Ok,” I began slowly, “but we should probably talk about it. Sometime.”

Buffy’s eyes met mine. I heard her swallow hard and heard her heartbeat quicken a little. She was just as nervous as I was. 

“We will,” she confirmed with a nod.

“So, what did you want to talk about, then?” I asked, wondering why she need some one-on-one time if it wasn’t to discuss our kiss.

“Well… Angel and I--”

I jumped to my feet instantly, stopping Buffy mid-sentence. “Oh, bloody perfect!” I yelled, stomping back and forth at the foot of her bed. “I’ve been back for all of five bloody minutes, and already you’re talking about sodding ANGEL! Well, I hope you two are very happy together! Not too happy though, right? We all know what happens when you two--”

Buffy hit me, square in the nose. I wasn’t ready for it. She knocked me off balance, and I stumbled backward. I tripped over a suitcase, and the back of my head hammered against her bedroom wall on my way down to the floor. Stars appeared in my vision. Before I could blink them away Buffy straddled me, pressing me flat to the ground. She raised her fist and bashed me again, this time just under my right eye. I felt the sting of ripping skin along my cheekbone and the resulting wetness as blood leaked out from my wound. 

Rage flowed through me, and I shed my mask with a shake of my head. I roared out, exposing my fangs, determined to taste the Slayer’s blood. I saw fire in Buffy’s eyes as she pulled back her arm for another punch, but I managed to block it and connect a blow to her chin. Her head snapped back, but she recovered quickly. I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed my forehead against the bridge of her nose. The savory, heady aroma of her blood overwhelmed my senses. She tried to shake off the blow, but I shoved both palms against her chest, propelling her off of me and back a few feet. I crawled to my knees, my head pounding. 

I didn’t make it back to my feet before Buffy was on me again. She sent me back to the floor with a hard kick to my right side. I heard a pop, followed by searing pain burning at my side. I cried out in agony and saw Buffy hesitate. It was brief, but it gave me time to grab hold of her leg, pulling down and twisting to force her to the floor. I rolled on top of her, my rage shrouding the pain from my broken rib, and pinned her arms up above her head. I sat on her thighs, using my legs to immobilize hers. She struggled under me, and I relished the look of terror in her eyes when she realized I had her. I could kill her. I wanted to kill her. One more dead slayer to add to my already impressive resume.


	15. Chapter 15

Slayer. I froze, staring down at Buffy. What was I doing? I loosened my hold and was about to climb off of her, but she capitalized on the moment and swung. The blow sent me toppling to the side. I shook out of my vamp face, scooted up to a sitting position with my legs stretched out in front of me, and leaned back against the bed for support. Buffy flipped to her feet and stood over me, her breathing fast and hard. She peered down at me with murder in her eyes and blood trickling from the gash at the bridge of her nose. I was eye level with her clenched fists. Her knuckles were already stained red with my blood. Maybe a bit of hers too. She bent over at the waist, grabbed either side of my shirt, and jerked me towards her until my face was mere inches away for hers. I winced as the sudden move sent a jolt of pain out from my rib. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Buffy shouted in my face.

“Me? You threw the first bloody punch!” I yelled back, “And the second!”

“Only because YOU were being an ass!”

“I’m always an ass!” 

Buffy let me go, adding a little force to her release so my back hit the bed with a thud. She sat down on the floor to my left and rested her back against the bed too. Her breathing slowed. I was fairly certain the fight was over at this point, but I didn’t want to chance it. I don’t think she wanted to either. So, we just sat there silently, staring forward. 

After a couple minutes, Buffy looked over at me, and I did the same. She looked tired and ashamed. Bruises began to show around her nose through the dried blood. The discoloration stretched from the bridge of her nose to just under her right eye. Damn. She healed fast, but not as fast as me. She was going to be stuck with that black eye for a day or so. 

“You should clean that up,” I suggested.

She touched her nose lightly and grimaced. She then reached out to my chin, moving it gently to the left so she could inspect my wound. Her forehead furrowed as she met my eyes again. “I have some stuff.”

She got up, stepped over me, and opened the drawer to her nightstand. She pulled out a bag of cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Slayer essentials. She looked into the mirror hanging on her wall and started cleansing her wounds and wiping the blood from her face. When she finished, she squatted down beside me. I watched her as she worked on me. She was focused and calm. She applied cautious pressure to my cheek, gently wiping at my bloodstained skin. I must have had a cut above my eyebrow too, because she started cleaning there next. 

“I lost it, love,” I whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Buffy made eye contact briefly, still wiping an alcohol-soaked cotton ball along my forehead. “I did too. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Everything goes red when you start talking about HIM,” I explained. “I know it’s not my business what you’re doing or who you’re--”

“There’s no DOING!” interrupted Buffy quickly. I watched her cheeks flush. “I mean, it’s not like that.”

“Then why did you bring him up?”

Buffy got up and threw away the soiled cotton balls, then returned to her seat to the left of me. “I was just going to tell you that Angel and I were patrolling. Separately. Far away from each other, actually. We haven’t had any luck finding this guy though.”

I looked down to my feet and briefly considered slithering under the bed to hide. “Oh.” I’m such a wanker. 

I went to sigh, but the sharp intake of breath felt like a knife digging into my right side. I pressed my hand against the offended rib, which helped me reduce my near yelp of pain to a wince and a small groan. Buffy saw through it.

“Let me see,” she ordered, pulling my hand away from my side.

“It’s fine, Buffy. It will heal.”

She arched her leg over me so that she had a knee on either side of my legs. She was nearly sitting on my lap. A little distracting, but I wasn’t about to complain. She lifted the edge of my red polo shirt, which had become untucked in our fight, to expose my side. I felt her fingers slide over my skin tenderly, stopping at the source of my pain. I was just starting to enjoy it when she tested the area with her fingertips, and I flinched. I may have also yelled out a foul word or two. She yanked her hand away, a disgusted look on her face.

“Why do we do this to each other, Spike?” 

“‘You always hurt the ones you--’ Uh, wait, I mean…” I closed my eyes, cursing myself. “It’s just our way, I suppose,” I corrected when I looked back up at her.

“Our way is dumb,” she stated with a pout, still perched over me.

I snorted. “Truer words were never spoken, love.”

I watched a small, sad smile appear on her face. I returned the gesture, ignoring the resulting sting from the cut on my cheek. I noticed a strand of blonde hair that had fallen out of place at some point during our fight. Without thinking, I reached up and tucked it behind her ear, letting my right hand linger on her cheek. I started to pull my hand back, but Buffy placed her fingers over mine and held it in place. She turned her cheek into my palm, closing her eyes. 

“I missed you,” she whispered as she opened her eyes again.

That lump in my throat returned. “I missed you too.”

I leaned forward as far as the pain in my side would allow and braced myself up with my left arm. I was close enough to hear the rapid pumping of her heart. “Buffy…”

She let her hand drop to rest against my chest, looking down at it, her brows pulling inward. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

Right. Blocked again. Classic move, Slayer. 

“Didn’t much care for this shirt anyway,” I replied, removing my hand from her cheek and leaning back against the bed. “I could take it off, if it bothers you,” I suggested with a wink.

Buffy smiled again. “Tempting,” she joked.

She stood up, much to my dismay, and held a hand out to me. “Come on, Xander should be back soon.”

I took her hand and allowed her to pull me up. Standing hurt. The back of my head started throbbing again, and I had to hunch over a bit to keep my rib pain to a minimum. The room started spinning. I closed my eyes in an attempt to quell my dizziness.

“Are you ok?” I heard Buffy ask, although her voice broke and echoed a bit, like she was both inside a cave and talking through bad phone reception. I felt her arm wrap around the back of my waist, then felt the other on my chest to steady me.

“Peachy.” The banging in my head dulled, and I opened my eyes. Two Buffys were staring at me, their green eyes wide and searching my face. I blinked a few times until I managed to jam the two Buffys in front of me back into one. 

“If you wanted to hold me, you could’ve just asked, pet,” I flirted.

She rolled her eyes, but seemed amused anyway. She tilted her chin towards the bed. “We can wait a little longer, ” she said, her voice sounding normal again. 

I arched a brow at that, and she rolled her eyes again.

“New clothes, new hair, but same old pervy Spike,” she joked, helping me to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sitting helped. She sat down with me. “I’m fine, pet,” I reassured her when she left a hand on my back for support. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” she quipped sarcastically. Buffy then lifted a hand to smooth out my hair. “I like it.”

“The hair?” I asked. She answered with a nod. “The box said ‘natural medium brown.’ Didn’t sound like it could turn out too terribly.”

“You haven’t seen it?” When I shook my head she pulled out her phone. “This calls for a selfie.”

She held the phone out in front of us and pressed her cheek against mine. A shutter sound came from the phone, and she turned it so that we could both see the picture.

“Well… not bad,” I mused. 

We both looked beat to hell, but my hair was all right after all. It was a shade or two darker than my natural color, but pretty damn close. I was right about the shirt though. It did look ridiculous. 

“Thanks, Slayer.”

Buffy pocketed her phone again. “How is it that you guys show up on camera anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a weary stare, “I don’t make the rules, love.”

She was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. “Yeah?” she asked.

The door swung open wide and Cat stepped in, dressed in tight jeans and a pale yellow V-neck. She had curled her dark hair into soft waves, and it draped freely over her shoulders. “Do you have my-- Oh. Sorry,” Cat looked over at me, “I didn’t know you had a ‘friend’ over too.” 

Cat didn’t recognize me? I had to see how far I could take this. Buffy gave me a knowing glance as I cleared my throat. 

“How-do? Ya’ll come on in now,” I chattered using my best attempt a thick Southern accent, “I’m just visitin’ a spell.”

“Yeah, ok,” Cat said hesitantly, then frowned when she looked back to Buffy. “You both look like shit.”

“Thanks Cat,” Buffy forced out while biting the edge of her lip. 

Buffy was trying awfully hard not to smile. For now it just made Cat suspicious, but she was going to give me away. Best to give it my all while I had the chance.

“Ya’ll know how we do thangs back in Texas. Sweet tea, biscuits n’ gravy, and a good ol’ bout of wrastlin’ to say howdy.”

Buffy burst out laughing. I start to laugh too, but a twinge of pain hit my side. I managed to hold in a groan. 

“Ok guy, you’re fucking hilarious,” snapped Cat, crossing her arms, “Drop the stupid accent.”

“Cat,” Buffy started once she caught her breath, “you really don’t know him?”

Cat looked me up and down. “Should I?”

I arched a brow at her and smirked. I watched her consider me again, and I thought I saw a flicker of familiarity in her expression. 

I reverted to my usual British dialect and tsked at her. “Forget me already, kitten? My feelings are hurt.”

Realization poured over her face, and her eyes grew wide. She raised a hand to cover her open mouth, and uttered a muffled, “Holy shit…”Then she removed her hand and started shouting, “Holy shit! Spike! What the hell?”

Cat ran over with open arms and slammed into me. I grabbed her by the hips, trying to catch her before she hit me, but she still knocked me backwards on the bed and flopped down on top of me. Pain jolted down my side, and I cried out, “Aagh! Careful, pet.”

Cat unwrapped her arms from the back of my neck and pushed her palms against the bed to lift herself off of me a bit. “Sorry!” she looked me in the eye and grinned. “Damn, it’s good to see you! Even this weird boring version of you.” 

“Good to see you too, Cat,” I said up to her.

“Hey, you look like a ‘William’ now!” she exclaimed.

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

Buffy cleared her throat, and Cat and I both gave her our attention. “Comfortable?” she asked us, giving me a disapproving look.

“Very, actually,” I answered, smirking.

Buffy was not amused. Cat gave me an apologetic smile and climbed off. I went to lean forward to sit up, but had to turn a little to my left to take the pressure of my sore rib. 

Buffy watched my uncoordinated move back to a sitting position and frowned. “I’ll be fine,” I declared pointedly. 

“So. Which one of you started it?” asked Cat. Buffy and I pointed a finger at each other. 

“Did you two bone this time too?”

“Cat! What?” exclaimed Buffy, “Why would you even think that?” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, she figured it out. Buffy’s head shot over to me, her eyes narrowed to slits and her face beet-red. 

“Oh, uh…” I thought back to my conversation with Cat at the bar a few weeks earlier. “Well, I may have, uh, overshared some of our more interesting… adventures. Possibly.”

Buffy crossed her arms. A little blood vessel by her temple pulsed visibly. She was still red-faced, but I’m fairly certain it was more anger than embarrassment now. 

“Well? Did you?” pressed Cat. 

Buffy turned her furious glare to Cat, and Cat quickly raised her hands in surrender. “Ok, ok. I’ll let you guys finish up whatever you’ve got going on here.” 

Cat stepped outside the door and waved goodbye. Before she pulled the door closed, I heard the sound of Xander’s voice coming from the living room.

“Uh, Buffy?”

“What,” she spat out coldly.

I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled. Buffy jumped from the bed to grab hold, but I was able to steady myself. I held my palm up towards her, and she stopped, but remained close. 

“Let’s get out of here, yeah? Sounds like your boy is back.” I made it to the door without falling, opened it, and stood to the side. “Ladies first,” I offered with a wink.

She huffed, but went ahead, and I followed her down the hall and into the living room.

Xander was sitting in the upholstered chair next to the couch. Dawn was on his lap, her legs hanging over the arm of the chair. She was feeding him a donut and laughed when the jelly inside squished out onto his chin. Willow was on the couch next to them with a half-eaten donut in her hand. Cat was in the kitchen after another cup of coffee.

“Hey, Jake from State Farm!” Xander called out when he saw me.

Willow turned to look over her shoulder at Buffy and me, then delivered a smack to Xander’s upper arm. 

“Thanks Red.” I smirked as Xander rubbed at his arm.

“Whoa,” fretted Dawn, frowning, “what happened to you guys?”

Buffy clenched her jaw and stomped off to the kitchen for an ice pack. The others, excluding Cat, followed her with their eyes until she opened the freezer, then focused their attention on me. 

“Well,” I started, pausing to clear my throat, “I guess you could say we had--”

“Sex,” interrupted Cat without looking away from her mug.

Xander’s “What-huh?” was drowned out by Dawn’s cheerful “Really?” and Willow’s “Oh!”

Buffy whipped around. “Cat!” she yelled out, then turned to the Scoobies, “We didn’t!”

Cat continued to innocently sip away at her coffee. 

“Not for a few years, anyway,” I joked. 

Buffy shot me a look that I guessed meant she didn’t think I was funny. The yelling confirmed it.

“Shut up, Spike!” she threatened, “Or do you want me to kick your ass AGAIN?”

I squinted, pointed a finger at the Slayer, and prepared to throw one of my truth-laced insults her way, but Red shut it down.

“Hey!” shouted Willow. She stood up and addressed all of us. “We’re not here to play around people! Someone is pretending to be Spike and is doing some very BAD things. This is serious! We have to figure out who this guy is before he does anymore damage or gets someone killed.” 

She paused, then looked pointedly between Buffy and me. Willow’s posture stiffened, and her eyes appeared a bit darker than they should’ve been. “And you two!” Will continued, “Table this ‘love-hate’ ‘will they or won’t they’ crap until this is over! We won’t have a chance in hell if you beat each other senseless before we find him. Knock it off right now or I will MAKE you.” 

Her hard stance softened and the color of her eyes returned to their usual fern green as she merrily chirped out, “So let’s get to work now, ok?”

Buffy and I mumbled our apologies. I hobbled over to flop down in the chair next to Xander and Dawn. Buffy sat beside Willow, giving her friend a one-armed hug.

Cat put her coffee mug in the sink, then sat down in the empty seat next to Buffy. “I know I’m not a ‘Scooby’ or whatever,” Cat started, “and I don’t know much about vampires or demons, but I’d like to help if I can. Besides, you know, donuts.”

“Not a Scooby?” said Xander. He pointed at Buffy, telling Cat, “You joined the club as soon as you let this lady move in.”

“He’s got a point,” Buffy agreed and handed Cat a donut topped with pink icing and multi-colored sprinkles.

“The more the merrier,” Willow confirmed cheerfully.

“Wait a sec,” Xander blurted out, “does this mean that us normal people are finally even with you freak shows?”

“No,” I answered, tilting my head to Dawn, “the Niblet’s one of us.”

“Am not!” Dawn argued.

“Are too,” corrected Buffy.

Dawn scoffed, but I explained, “I’m fairly certain that glowing balls of energy qualify as ‘freak show’ material.”

Cat looked around the group, saying, “Huh?”

“I’m not anymore,” Dawn muttered. Xander patted her knee in consolation.

“Besides,” I said, ignoring Cat’s confused expression, “we still have Angel.” I managed to get his name out without pulling a face. No easy feat.

Buffy had to chime in though. She leaned forward to grab herself a donut and looked straight at me when she gloated, “That’s right. We do.”

I felt the heat of anger rising inside, but I clenched my jaw to keep it at bay. Will threw a warning glower at Buffy, who then shoved a large chunk of donut in her mouth and shrank back into the couch.

The Scoobies had a lot of experience with researching demons and the like. The group had clocked God knows how many hours huddled in the Sunnydale High School library or the Magic Box passing books back and forth. Unfortunately, all that experience wasn’t helpful this go ‘round. A few of Giles’ old stuffy books made an appearance, but were quickly set aside. All indications were that the Guardian Angel of LA wasn’t the monster-of-the-week type of demon the group was used to researching. We decided it was either another vampire playing dress-up to wreak havoc on LA or it was a lookalike human mugger capitalizing on my “fame.” Either way, I was going to find him. And he would pay.

Buffy and I decided to hit the streets after sunset. Apparently Angel had already planned on a patrol as well. Oh goodie. We agreed to split up three ways to cover more ground. Suited me fine. I didn’t want to see that posturing jerk anyway.


	16. Chapter 16

I peeked around the curtain of Cat’s window and watched the last bit of sun drop below the horizon. Finally. I had been impatiently pacing the living room waiting for sunset when Dawn pointed out that I should change clothes before leaving for patrol. My khakis and red shirt had a few blood stains on them from my fight with Buffy. If I didn’t change before I went out I would risk drawing attention to myself. Sort of defeats the whole purpose of the dye job then, yeah? I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a baby blue polo. I stepped into the jeans and shook my head in disgust as I held the shirt out in front of me. I put the shirt on anyway and tucked it in. My hand grazed over my healing rib as I did. It was still a bit sore, but now I could move without causing stabbing pains. I heard a knock at the front door, so I left Cat’s room and peered into the living room from the hallway. 

Angel. Bloody sodding Angel. He was standing just inside the front door, his 6 foot frame around Buffy in an embrace that was lasting far too long. She had leaned her head against his chest, her eyes closed and expression content. I clenched my jaw, and my fists followed suit. The stupid ponce thinks he’s special just because he was Buffy’s “first love” and the first vampire to get a soul. His soul was forced on him by gypsies because he ate the wrong girl. I had to fight for my LIFE to get MY blooming soul. But yet, he’s the one that plays up the “I’m so sad because I did bad things please feel sorry for me” angle. And it bloody works! The berk wasn’t even supposed to be here! He was supposed to do a sweep of his area of town, not join up with the Slayer and me. I had to swallow a curse as I watched him lean his head down several inches to rest against Buffy’s hair. Less than a second later his head shot back up, and he started searching the room with his eyes. He released Buffy when he finally saw me. Bloke must’ve smelled my scent all over her. Good.

I stepped out from the shadowed doorway into the living room. “Spike,” Angel spat.

“Angel,” I responded coldly.

“Xander!” yelled out Xander from his chair. Will shook her head, and he explained, “What? I felt left out.”

Angel looked me up and down. “Look at you...”

“It’s temporary,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

“Spike’s one of those sparkly vampires now,” joked Xander. This time Dawn whacked his arm.

“Why are you here, Spike?” demanded Angel, putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m after the tosser who’s been prancing around in a Spike costume. Thought that was fairly obvious. Then again you always were a bit thick.” I waved my hand in front of my forehead as I added, “Especially in the brow region.”

“You shouldn’t be here. You better catch another ride out of town before someone recognizes you,” Angel ordered.

“It’s my bloody face on the news!” I protested, taking a few steps closer, “I’m not going to stand by and let this git take over my life.”

Buffy held up a hand. “Guys, calm d--”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do!” fired back Angel, ignoring Buffy, “You’re going to end up sitting on your ass while I get stuck cleaning up your mess! AGAIN!”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I reminded him, then I got in his face and poked him hard in the chest as I spat out each word, “you bloody, self-absorbed, wanker!”

Angel pushed me back a few steps, growling, “Back off, Willy!”

Rage bubbled up inside and spilled over. I reared back and delivered a right cross to his jaw, causing him to stumble. Angel recovered and clenched his fists as he closed the distance between us. He swung at me with his right hand, but I blocked it. He must’ve anticipated my move, because he followed up with his left before I noticed and clocked me. The surprise blow knocked me to the ground, and I slid several feet along the wood floors.

“Stop it!” shouted Buffy, looking down at me. She then turned to Angel, who looked smug. “We don’t have time for this crap!” 

Cat turned in her seat, peering over the couch to look down at me. “Jesus! Spike are you--” 

Cat froze, her eyes growing wide. A loud gasp escaped her, and she shot backwards, falling off the front of the couch and into the coffee table with a thud. 

Bugger. I must’ve slipped into vamp face at some point. “Cat! It’s all right! It’s still me,” I rushed out, pushing myself to my feet and shifting back into my human form.

She was on the floor, jammed between the couch and the coffee table. Will had kneeled down next to her, her arm around Cat’s back. Cat just stared up at me, her fingers shaking over her gaping mouth. Dawn moved the coffee table back a few inches to give Cat some more space while Xander and Willow coaxed Cat to her feet. Dawn and Xander stayed behind while Willow escorted Cat down the hall towards her room. Cat continued to stare at me from over her shoulder. 

She was fine with the idea of vampires existing, sure. But she hadn’t seen one yet. Not really. The veil was lifted now, and I wondered if she would ever be able to look at me again without fear in her eyes. Bloody Angel screwed me over once more.

I glowered at him. Buffy had pushed him into a chair at the table. He was looking anywhere he could to avoid meeting Buffy’s eyes. She stood beside him, lips pursed and arms crossed tight in front of her. She was angry, all right. And not just at me for a change. That’s something, I suppose.

Hatred was still flowing through me, and I let it take control. I stomped over to stand next to Buffy, yelling down at Angel, “You miserable berk! Cat’s NEVER going to look at me the same! Did you see that?” I pointed down the hall for emphasis. “She’s scared senseless!” 

He lowered his head, turning on the wounded puppy-dog act. Buffy was softening just looking at him. 

“She would’ve had to see it sooner or later anyway,” Buffy reasoned somberly.

“Bloody unbelievable!” I shouted at her. “You can’t help it, can you? You always take his bloody side!” Her mouth opened to spout something back, but I held up a hand to stop her. “Save it, Slayer. I’m through.”

I stomped past her and Angel to the front door and swung it open wide, causing the top hinge to tear away from the door. I didn’t care. I ran down the stairs and into the night, ignoring the echoing sound of Buffy’s voice calling my name.


	17. Chapter 17

I stopped running once I was several blocks away. It had started raining at some point along my route. The drizzle did nothing to improve my mood. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from punching something inanimate and watched my boots splatter water from around them as I walked. I needed to clear my head. All I could think about was Angel. And Buffy. And Angel with Buffy. Bloody git, with his stupid hair. She jumps to his defense every sodding time! What the bleeding hell does she see in him? He likes Manilow for Christ’s sake! 

The rain stopped about an hour later, leaving little, dark puddles in the potholes. A prismatic sheen of oil freed from the asphalt by the rain glistened in spots along the surface of the road. It was sort of pretty. I was in no mood for pretty. I was still fuming. Obviously, my walk wasn’t helping to calm my nerves. Time to head back and force out a “sorry” or two. 

I turned around, but had only gone a few steps when I heard breaking glass. Lots of it. The blaring sound of an alarm followed, and I sprinted down a side street and around the corner toward the noise. I saw a man climbing out of a broken storefront window with his arms full of weapons. I spotted several large hunting knives, a crossbow, and assorted hand guns.

“Hey!” I called out as I continued my run toward the thief. 

The man paused with his back to me. I stopped about 50 feet short of him. He turned around slowly and sneered.

“Bloody hell,” I murmured under my breath. 

The man in front of me was dressed in all black, including a long, leather duster almost identical to mine. He had bleached, platinum blonde hair that he wore slicked back. I was staring at ME. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought I was looking in a mirror. The no reflection thing sort of took that off the table, though.

“I like the look,” I called out as I took a few tentative steps toward him, “but it’s not very original, mate.” 

He opened his arms, allowing his haul to fall to the ground. “You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, boy scout,” he growled and started walking towards me as well. 

I noticed three things before we reached each other. One: I was certain I had never seen him before, which meant that list Xander and Dawn had me make was completely useless. See? I was right. Two: He was American. Or sounded American, anyway. Anyone in this city could tell you the “Guardian Angel of LA” was British based on my brief appearance on the news, but this bloke wasn’t even trying to fake it. And three: Security cameras. One was over top of the entrance to the store and another was across the street to view the entire storefront. If I fought him, I would be attracting attention to my disguised self and start this bloody media circus all over again.

The imposter was nearly within arm’s reach now. I took in a large breath and caught his scent. Vampire. Bugger. My only choice was to play it human for the cameras and cross my fingers that he didn’t carry a stake around in his duster pocket like I do. Did. Damn, I missed my duster.

The stylish vamp reached out and grabbed me by my ridiculously bright blue shirt, pulling me into his face. His eyes widened as he got a whiff of me. “Move on vampire!” he growled, “This doesn’t concern you!”

“Can’t,” I said, “I’ve been wearing the white hat for a while now. Foiling the bad guy’s plan is part of the gig.”

He gave me a shove when he released his grasp, and I tried out my best human impression by stumbling backwards and falling to the damp ground. He looked at me, confused. 

“What kind of sorry excuse for a vampire are you?” he asked. He sauntered over and landed a kick to my side, directly against my nearly healed rib. I cried out in genuine pain.

Fake-me cackled as he landed several more kicks and punches. I curled up as much as I could to protect my right side, but he just wailed on my left instead. I let him. Not my idea of a good time, but I didn’t have much of a choice with all the cameras around. I somehow managed to avoid switching into vamp face despite the beating. In between the sounds of his fists pounding on my head, I heard sirens. They were getting closer. The vampire paused and looked in the direction of the approaching authorities. 

“You’re lucky I have somewhere to be,” he snarled, kicking my midsection hard enough to roll me over a few times. I stopped with my back flat against the pavement. 

He stomped on my right side once more with the heel of his boot, and fresh pain shot through my entire body like lightning. My right eye was already swelling shut and my left was blurred with blood, but I saw him scoop up the weapons he had left in the street and start running off. 

I rolled over to my left side and coughed, staining the street with more of my blood. It hurt to move. But as the sirens drew closer, I knew I had to get out of there. If the cops spotted me, they’d call for an ambulance. That would be problematic, seeing as I’m lacking a pulse on a good day. I’m sure the media would latch onto that one too. 

I tried to stand up, but I only made it as far as my knees. I had to crawl out of the road on all fours and push against the wall of the building across from the store to climb to my feet. My head was throbbing, and I was woozy enough that I wasn’t sure if the bricks against my palm made up the wall or the sidewalk. This dizzy thing was getting to be a pattern.

It hurt my legs to hold my weight, but neither was broken as far as I could tell. My rib was a different story. It was broken. Again. Maybe one or two more for good measure. I leaned my shoulder against the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps, until I reached the edge of the building. Now what? I looked around and found a sewer access point at the edge of the road, out of camera view. I could see red and blue lights glinting off of the damp blacktop. I bent down and strained to hoist the cover off. It took a lot more effort than it should have. My energy was gone, and the dizziness was getting worse. I tried to lower myself down into the hole I opened, but I lost my grip and fell through instead. I landed on my pained side with a thud, splashing into an ungodly concoction that reeked of sewage and rat crap. Wonderful.

After convincing myself that the pain of moving would be better than soaking in filth, I made it over to a mostly dry, narrow ledge of the sewer tunnel and leaned back against the wall. The dizziness worsened even more somehow, and the edges of my already blurred vision started to go black. I let my head fall to my chest, too tired and weak to hold it upright. 

“Not my day…” I muttered, and I allowed the darkness to wash over me.


	18. Chapter 18

I’m not sure how much time went by before I came to. My head throbbed, and I had to blink a few times to get my eyes to work. I looked around. I was in a sewer. Why was I in a sewer? Oh, right, the police. I had to hide from the police. I did something... I blinked again, trying to orient to the situation. Those guns and knives and other things, I stole them. No, wait, that bloody fraud stole them! Rage flowed through me once more and motivated me to move. I got my feet under me and pushed, pressing my hands against the wall to help me slide up to stand. The sewer spun for a moment, distracting me from my anger. I was able to stay on my feet, though. That went well. Let’s see how walking goes. 

It took some concentration, which was extremely hard given my massive headache, but I managed to find a sewer access point I thought would only be a few blocks away from Buffy’s place. Good plan, except for one little problem. When I stretched out and pushed the cover up a few inches, searing sunlight flooded in. I dropped the cover in place and fell backward into the slurry that passed for water. It was disgusting, but it put out the fire that had started on my hands and forearms, so I was happy to have it.

“Bloody fucking brilliant!” I complained aloud.

I stood up. I was aching all over and soaked through with sewer water and my own blood. I looked around, hoping for a stray blanket or even just a floppy hat, but no luck. It’s a bloody sewer, what did I expect? I plopped down on a raised platform in the corner, stretched out my legs, leaned my head against the wall, and closed my eyes. If I’m stuck here until nightfall, I might as well get some rest.

A squeaking sound at my feet woke me up. I opened one eye and spotted a rat sniffing around at my boot. I gave my foot a quick shake to scare it off, but the sudden movement shot sizzling pain up my leg and back. 

“Ow! Not your brightest moment,” I told myself.

I fought through the mounting discomfort and stood up, leaving my hand on the wall to steady myself. I squinted up at the sewer access cover. How long was I out? Is the sun down, or am I risking another set of fresh burns? 

“One way to find out,” I said aloud. 

I pushed up on the cover and flinched, expecting to burst into flame. Nothing happened. I looked up to see a starless, deep blue-black sky. I nearly cried from the overwhelming flood of relief. The night air was cool and dry. I sucked in a breath of the city, and it smelled heavenly compared to the foul stench of the sewer. I moved the access cover to the side and struggled to climb out. I had to lay my stomach on the road and wriggle around a bit before I could get the rest of my body out of the hole. My ribs hurt like hell with every tiny movement, but I couldn’t stay in that bloody sewer forever. When I finally worked my way out, I flopped over onto my back and extended my arms and legs. It felt good to spread out on the dry asphalt, like my sore, beaten muscles could finally relax.

The ground started to vibrate lightly, but grew more intense after a couple seconds. An earthquake? No, worse. I raised my head off the road in time to see a set of headlights approaching fast. The car’s tires screeched, but it wasn’t going to be able to stop in time. I used the little bit of energy I had left to fling myself to the right and narrowly avoided testing out my roadkill impression. On my stomach once again, my head was facing away from the car. I tried to roll myself over, but gave up. I was spent. I heard a car door open, followed by hurried footsteps that stopped beside me. 

“Hey, uh, you ok?” spoke a familiar voice.

I took a breath in to gather a scent, but the motion made me start coughing violently. I sent a thick spray of blood onto the road. I managed to catch the scent though.

“Jesus! Hold on, I’ll call an ambulance!” The footsteps scrambled away, toward the car.

“Xander,” I coughed out, “don’t.”

The footsteps paused, then rushed back toward me. “Spike?” He squatted down beside me and helped me turn onto my back. “Oh God, what the hell happened to you? And what’s that smell?”

“I’d love to chat, Harris,” I croaked, “but I think I’m going to pass out again.”

Xander reached down, nearly picking me up to help me to my feet. He put an arm around my back and grabbed the edge of my pants at my hip. He had me lift my arm to rest around his shoulders and took hold of my wrist. Xander was stronger than I expected, seeing as he’s your run-of-the-mill human type. Must be all the construction work. He practically carried me to the car. Xander got me into the passenger seat and even buckled me in before shutting my door and running around the front of the car to get behind the wheel. When he climbed in, he hurriedly put the car in gear and squealed the tires as he took off. For once in his life, Xander was silent. I’ll have to remember to thank him for that.

I was right. I passed out. 

I came to when an open-handed smack stung my swollen cheek. 

“Ow! What the hell!” I gurgled out. My eyes were open now, but I had to blink a few times to get them to focus.

“Sorry,” Xander said outside of my open car door, “but you gotta be awake for this part.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming when Xander lifted me to stand. He waited a second to let me gain my balance, then set off toward the stairs. We paused at the base of the stairway. 

“Xander. I don’t think I’m up for this,” I confessed wearily, staring up at the two, obscenely long flights of stairs. 

He tightened his grip around me. “Yeah, me either. Come on.”

Xander half-lifted, half-dragged me up to the flat one step at a time. It took ages, but we finally reached the top of the mountain of stairs. Xander was breathing hard, sweat pouring off of him. He tried to take a hand off of me to open the door, but every time he went for the doorknob my knees would start to buckle, and he’d have to latch hold again. So, Xander held tight and delivered two, sharp kicks to the door in place of a knock. I idly noticed the door hinge I had ripped away in my anger was repaired. He must’ve fixed it while I was gone.

Dawn’s alarmed voice rang out from behind the closed door. “Who’s there?”

“If only I had time for a knock-knock joke,” Xander muttered. He was panting, but managed to yell out, “Dawnie, it’s me! Open up!”

The door opened, revealing a very worried Dawn. “Oh my God! Spike!” She reached forward and helped Xander support my weight. 

“Let’s get him to the couch,” said Xander. 

I caught sight of Cat standing in the hallway as Xander and Dawn carried me into the living room. She looked worried. Or maybe scared? I was too exhausted to care. We made it to the couch, where Xander and Dawn laid me down as gently as they could. 

“Does Buffy know he’s here?” Dawn asked her boyfriend.

Xander was leaning over, his hands on his knees, completely out of breath. He shook his head without looking up.

“You didn’t call her?!” Dawn yanked her phone from her pocket, poked the screen, and held it up to her ear.

Xander stood back up, his breathing still fast, but less labored. “Kinda had my hands full, Dawn,” he stressed, motioning towards me.

She nodded apologetically, then frowned. “Voicemail,” she explained, then waited for the inevitable beep. “Buffy, come home as soon as you get this! Spike’s here, and he’s hurt. Bad. Just get here.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Where--” I started, but interrupted myself with another bout of coughing.

Dawn squatted down and wiped a tissue along the corner of my mouth. “Buffy’s out looking for you,” she answered as she worked, “Willow and Angel went too.” The tissue was covered in blotches of red when she pulled it away. 

Xander jumped in. “I was out for a food run. Lucky for you, we didn’t take delivery.”

“Yeah, I’m real lucky,” I muttered sarcastically, but then appreciatively added, “Thank you, Xander. I don’t think I could’ve made it back on my own. Definitely not up those stairs.”

His eyebrows raised. “Wow, a genuine ‘thank you’ from William the Bloody. Think some of that hair dye seeped into your brain?”

I tried to glare at him, but I think my face was too swollen to respond.

Dawn stood to hug up against Xander’s side briefly. She then moved into the kitchen, poured some blood into a coffee mug, and set it in the microwave to heat. 

Cat entered the living room but stayed a safe distance away, staring at me. I looked over to her, but she averted her eyes. 

“What happened?” Xander asked, sitting down at the chair next to me. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to wait for everyone to get back,” I told him, “I don’t think I have the energy to go through it all twice.” 

The microwave beeped, and Dawn appeared with a cup of blood and a straw. She sat on her knees and positioned the straw in my mouth. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. It tasted divine. 

I let the straw drop out of my mouth after a couple more pulls. “Thanks, Niblet.”

I glanced over to Cat again in time to see her look away again. Dawn noticed it too. She gave Xander a pointed look. 

Understanding washed over his face, and he cleared his throat before saying, “Uh, hey Dawnie, can you help me with something? Outside possibly?” 

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, but got to her feet. “Smooth, Xander.” 

She started walking towards the door, but stopped in front of Cat and thrust the mug into her hands. “Make sure he finishes this,” Dawn ordered. Then, Dawn followed Xander out the front door. 

Cat hesitated, but stepped toward me. She took Dawn’s previous position on the floor. “Hey,” she said uneasily.

“Hey.”

Cat brought the straw to my lips, and I noticed a slight tremor in her hands. She was afraid. I swallowed another mouthful, then released the straw and shook my head. She set the mug on the coffee table, but remained seated on the floor. She was staring at me again, only this time she didn’t look away when I met her eyes.

“You look like shit,” she blurted out.

“That’s the second time you’ve told me that,” I answered, then sniffed and added, “But this time I smell like shit too.”

She looked down and chewed her bottom lip, but then looked back at me. “I want to apologize.”

“Apologize?” I asked, confused, “For what?”

“For freaking out.” She sucked in a breath, then released it slowly. “It just… caught me off guard. You know?”

“I scared the hell out of you, Cat. You can say it.”

She worried her lip again, but then nodded.

“I’m sorry, kitten.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m glad I saw, uh, whatever it was I saw. I mean, now I’ll know a vampire when I see one, right?” 

She picked up the coffee cup and offered me the straw again. I accepted another pull. 

“Do, uh, do you guys all look like that?” she asked. I nodded. “And you can just switch back and forth whenever you want?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, “Sometimes we do it without meaning to. Like last night.” 

“So you get pissed off and change? Like the Hulk?” 

“What? No! Well, sort of, actually.”

She nodded, considering what I’d said. She pushed the straw at me again, but I shook my head. She lowered the mug, resting it against her lap. 

“Does it bother you? Me asking about all this stuff?” 

“No,” I assured her, “It’s probably best that you ask actually, seeing as your roommate has a habit of bringing her work home with her. Case in point.” 

She smiled, then looked down into the cup. “You drink animal blood, right?” 

“Yeah. Pig, mainly.” 

“Because it’s easier to get then other kinds?” 

I tried to shrug, but it hurt, so it came out as a slight twitch instead. “It’s closer to the good stuff than anything else readily available.” 

“The good stuff? You mean...” She trailed off, but I knew what she wasn’t saying. Human blood.

I nodded. 

“Oh.” She got quiet, but then her curiosity peaked again. “What’s the difference? I mean, blood is blood, right?” 

I thought for a second, then said, “It’s like Coke.”

Cat looked confused, but didn’t say anything. 

“Coke is great, yeah? But, it’s what you California health-nut types call ‘empty calories.’ That’s where Diet Coke comes in,” I explained, “It’s like Coke, only without the calories, but you’re stuck a weird aftertaste. No one actually WANTS a Diet Coke, but they make due so they get the taste of Coke without contributing to their waistlines. Human blood is Coke. Pig’s blood is Diet Coke. It’s not quite as good, but it’s close. And it means I don’t have to hurt anyone to get it.”

“Nice analogy.” She looked down into the cup again, swirling it around to make the straw spin. “So, you still want human blood? You still want to bite people?” 

I paused, but then reluctantly nodded. “I’ll alway crave it. Angel will too. It’s in our nature, pet. It’s what we are, no matter how much we try to avoid it.” 

She got quiet. 

“Anything else you want to know?” I asked. 

She met my gaze. “Yeah. One question.” 

I sighed. “Cat, I’m already on board with the Q and A session. No need for your little game.” 

“One question,” she repeated evenly. 

“Alright,” I gave in, “ask away.” 

She chewed her lip again, then asked, “Do you want to bite me?” 

“Oh, uh, I--” I stammered, rubbing at my temple. My headache flared back up. “No. Of course not.”

“But, you want to drink my blood?”

She was looking into my eyes, waiting for an answer that I did not want to give. My head throbbed harder. “Do you have any aspirin?” 

Fear appeared in her eyes for a fleeting moment, but she hid it away again before answering, “Yeah, I’ll get you something.” 

She stood up, but I reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Cat, wait.” 

Cat yanked her arm away, breaking my weakened grip easily. She took a breath to calm herself, then looked down at me. “It’s just your nature, right?”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, kitten. Ever.” 

She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know, Spike.” 

She set off to the kitchen and returned with a wet cloth and two of the prescription painkillers leftover from her shoulder injury. “Here, these should help.”

She handed the pills to me and gave me the straw so I could wash them down with the last of the blood. She placed the mug on the coffee table, then sat down on the floor again. She ran the warm, damp cloth over my face and neck to clear away the filth.

“Thanks,” I said when she had finished. “Cat, Buffy told you how to protect yourself from us, right?”

Cat frowned, but nodded. “Dislikes include sunlight, crosses, holy water, and big chunks of wood to the chest.”

“Add fire and decapitation to that list.”

“This is not a normal conversation,” she mused while shaking her head. Cat stood back up and picked up the empty cup in her free hand, then laid the now soiled cloth over it. “She told me about that stuff too. I’m no pyro, and I don’t even chop vegetables, so heads would be a bit too much for me. I think I’ll stick with the easy stuff.”

“If you’re ever face to face with one of us,” I warned, “you do whatever it takes.”

She nodded again, then gave me a wink. “We’re excluding you souled up types, right?” 

She took a step towards the kitchen, but I drew her attention. “Cat?” She paused and looked down at me. “One question?” I asked.

“Ok.”

“Are we still friends?”

She put a hand on mine and gripped it lightly, as if she was afraid she would break me. “Yes, William. Sorry if I made you think we weren’t. It’s just, I don’t know, a lot to process, I guess.” 

I smiled up at her and she returned it before heading into the kitchen to deposit my mug in the sink.

I had just closed my eyes when the front door flew open. I immediately detected the Slayer’s scent. She locked eyes with me. 

“Oh God, Spike!”

Less than a second later, Buffy was leaning over me, rubbing her hand gently over my hair. Dawn, Xander, Willow, and Angel entered the flat after her, but they kept their distance for now. 

“What happened? Where have you been?” she asked softly. Then her tone turned harsh, “Tell me who did this to you.”

I scooted up on the couch a little and moved my legs to the side to make room for Buffy. She sat down, careful to avoid jarring me.

“Funny story, that,” I answered wearily, “Might want to gather the troops.”

Xander grabbed a couple chairs from the dining room table and moved them to the living room. The others settled down in the living chairs or on the floor. Angel leaned against the wall.

I proceeded to tell them about catching my evil twin stealing weapons and how I took the beating to avoid the media spotlight. I told them about my adventures in the sewer and apologized again for the smell seeping into the fabric of the couch. When I finished, Buffy grabbed hold of my hand and clutched it gently.

“You just can’t give up, can you?” she whispered, a slight smile raising the corner of her lips. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Dawn from her place on the floor, “Buffy! That surveillance camera footage of the robbery and beating on the news last night, it was Spike!” 

Buffy looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “There were two cameras,” I confirmed, “Maybe more.”

“Some guys will do anything to get on TV,” commented Xander, shaking his head. 

Angel straightened up, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “Another close call, Spike. You just won’t die, will you?” 

“Not today, at least.” I grinned at him. Must be the drugs. “I got his scent,” I said, “He’s one of us, old man.”


	20. Chapter 20

“I am never going to move again,” I told myself, wiggling my toes in the warm water. I couldn’t handle the sewer smell any longer, so I had convinced Buffy to help me into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Seeing as I could barely stay on my feet without someone holding onto me, I decided a bath would be a bit safer than a shower. Buffy had helped me into the bathroom, sat me on the lid of the toilet, and filled the tub. 

“Need help getting undressed?” she had asked innocently once my bath was ready.

Even beaten half-dead I couldn’t help but smirk. She gave me a disapproving look at first, but then smiled. 

“I walked right into that one,” she had admitted, shaking her head.

“I’ll manage fine, Slayer,” I had said, “thanks for the offer.”

A few minutes later, Buffy was out the door, and I was soaking in a steamy tub of heaven. I had to flop down harder than I would’ve liked to get into the tub, but the warm, soothing water was worth the few seconds of excruciating pain. 

“A bloke could get used to this,” I muttered aloud. 

A knock on the door made me jump, causing each of my muscles to tense. It hurt. A lot. “What!” I barked. 

The door cracked open, and Buffy’s head poked into the room. “You ok?”

“Never better,” I answered, reeling in my anger, “Why?”

“You’ve been in there for a while. I thought you might need help getting out.”

“I got myself in, pretty sure I can get out too,” I responded defensively. 

“Ok,” she relented, “just let me know if you need help. I’m right outside the door.” She pulled the door shut again.

I soaped up one more time, then flicked open the drain with my toe. I felt better already. Just needed a good soak, is all. Well, a good soak plus some of Cat’s narcotics. I pushed up against the sides of the tub and managed to get my feet under me. So far, so good. I stood up and had to brace myself against the tiled wall with one hand. My knees wobbled a bit, but after a minute I was able to straighten up and grab the towel Buffy had left for me on the towel rod. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. Now for the hard part. I lifted my right leg to step over the tub, but burning pain stung at my hip. I tried to lift the left instead, but my right hip couldn’t handle all of my weight. I nearly fell down into the tub, but I was able to plant my foot despite the wet surface and twist a little in time to rest against the wall instead. Bugger.

“Uh, Buffy?” I called out.

The door creaked open again. “Yeah?” she answered, peeking inside.

“Looks like I could use a hand after all.”

She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. “You’re standing, that’s a good start.” 

I sighed in response, which caused my ribs to ache. I ignored it. “I can’t step over the damn tub,” I admitted, looking to the floor. 

Buffy came to the edge of the bathtub and placed her hand on my arm. “Hey,” she said, waiting for me to return her gaze before she continued, “you took a massive beating. It’s going to be a little while before you’re back to 100 percent. But you’ll get there. Until then, I’ll help you out.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “After all, what good is having a slayer for a friend if you can’t take advantage of the super strength?”

My friend, the Slayer. I sighed again.

Buffy suggested that I sit on the edge of the tub, then swing my legs over to the floor. Sounded like a good plan. She helped me keep my balance as I lowered myself down. My hip strained, but I was able to straighten my right leg out a little on my way down to lessen the pain. Buffy held onto my shoulders as I twisted around. She helped guide one leg over the edge, then the other, until both feet were on the floor. I had to rest after all that movement, so I stayed seated there. 

“Buffy?” I looked up at her.

She squatted down beside me and placed her hands on my left knee for balance. “Yeah?”

“I can’t be your friend.”

She frowned. “Huh?”

“I tried,” I continued, “Even convinced myself that I could for a bit. But… I can’t do it.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, more concerned than confused.

“I still--” I stopped myself and corrected, “I still care about you.”

Buffy didn’t move, didn’t react. She just listened. 

“I know this won’t happen,” I reasoned, pointing a finger back and forth between the two of us, “I know it. Have for a long time. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it. I want to be with you, Buffy. So being here, seeing you, pretending we’re old friends, it… well, it bloody hurts. I just didn’t realize it. At first.”

Buffy stood up and moved towards the sink. She crossed her arms, turned her head away from me, and leaned against the counter. 

“I’m sorry, love. I can’t help it,” I said. “Once this is done, once we stop this ‘Guardian Angel’ chap, I’ll go.”

“Go?” Buffy echoed without looking at me. 

“Yeah.”

“Where?” she asked, finally turning to face me. A few tears had left little wet trails down her cheeks. Another slipped out after she spoke.

“I don’t know,” I answered, looking down at my threaded fingers to avoid seeing more tears fall. “I thought about going back to Cleveland. I’m sure Faith could use some more help with her Hellmouth. Or maybe head across the Pond. I haven’t been back to London in ages.”

“Don’t go,” she nearly whispered, standing up.

I quirked a brow up at her. “The last time I tried to take off and you told me not to leave, I ended up burning to death and taking an entire town out with me. Not sure I’m up for a repeat performance, pet.”

She wiped her face and allowed the corner of her mouth to raise a bit. “Pretty sure that was a one time thing. But, you know? I’m sure there’s a necklace around here that I bet would look really good on you.”

“Not a chance. No more flashy jewelry for this vampire,” I responded with a smirk. We were uncomfortably silent for a second, but it felt like ages. So, I tapped the side of the tub a couple times with my heel. “I think I’ll opt for a walk-in shower in my new digs. Maybe one of those handheld showerhead things while I’m at it.”

Buffy’s expression turned serious once more. “Spike, please. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Leave you? I’m not. I’m--”

“You are!” she barged in, pacing the few steps across the width of the bathroom. “I guess I can’t blame you. I mean, I haven’t given you any reason to stay, have I? Everyone leaves me eventually. Might as well be your turn now.”

“Now wait just a minute!” I barked, pushing myself to stand for emphasis. Bad idea. The room started spinning, and I could feel myself toppling backwards. I closed my eyes tight and braced for the fall, but I felt Buffy’s arms around me. Relieved, I opened my eyes, and she lowered me back down to the edge of the tub. 

“Better?” she asked once I was seated.

“Yeah, thanks,” I answered, “Now what was I talking about?”

Buffy shrugged and sat on the lid of the toilet. “You were going to lecture me, I think.”

“Right!” I remembered, pointing my finger at her, “You were playing up that pity party ‘nobody loves me’ routine again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Think about it. Anyone that I have ever cared about leaves.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she shushed me. I pursed my lips and motioned with my hand for her to continue.

“My Dad pretty much disappeared after the divorce. Angel took off after graduation. Riley chose the military over me. Xander and Dawn moved hours away, so I really only see them on holidays or apocalypses. Willow’s off doing magicy stuff all over the world most days, so I never see her. Even Giles and...” her expression turned melancholy, “...and Mom. Might as well add your name to the list.”

I rubbed at my forehead, shielding my face from her for a moment. “This is different, pet.”

“How? How is it different?” she yelled at me. She planted her feet in front of me and stared down with her temper flaring. Mine flared back.

“The difference,” I yelled up to her, pointing my index finger at her again, “is that you never felt for me the way you felt for any of them. I can’t do this anymore, Slayer! I can’t see you every bloody day, knowing that I can’t have you! Do you have any bleeding idea how hard it is?”

“Spike, will you just listen to me?”

“NO!” I roared at her, “You said your piece, now let me say mine. I’ve spent YEARS by your side, following you around like a, a lost puppy. I’m THROUGH! I’d rather be missing you from thousands of miles away then be here, holding you in my arms, knowing that you don’t want me! So stop thinking about yourself for a change, you bloody egocentric bi--”

She interrupted my insult with a sudden, short, forceful kiss. When she pulled away, she stood up straight, her eyes scanning mine for a reaction. At first, I just sat there, looking back at her with my mouth agape. I blinked and licked my lips, allowing my brain to absorb what had happened in the past few seconds. The shock wore off, and I had a chance to consider her motives. 

I met her gaze again, this time gritting my teeth and glowering at her. “Are you bloody kidding me?” I said in a slow, even, dangerous voice.

“Huh? Spike, I--”

“What is wrong with you?!” I shouted before she could finish. “Why is it that every bloody time I try to move on, you do something like, like THAT and drag me back in? You don’t play fair, Slayer!”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Are you finished now or do you plan on interrupting me again?”

I crossed my arms too. “One kiss is not going to change things, Buffy.”

“Are. You. Finished?” she repeated, enunciating each syllable.

I had to count to ten in my head to keep from punching her in her pretty face. “Yes. I’m done,” I responded through clenched teeth.

She squatted down once more, her hand on my knee again to keep her balance. I was tempted to kick her over just to piss her off, but I fought the urge. 

She licked her lips and took a deep breath before she spoke. “Like I was saying,” she started calmly, “as much as you piss me off sometimes, I still don’t want you to go. Stay.”

“Yeah, Slayer, you already said that.”

She shoved her palm up in front of my face to quiet me as she begged, “Will you just listen?!” 

I huffed, but kept my mouth shut.

“God, Spike!” she griped, standing up and pacing about the small space again, “I’m trying to tell you how I feel here, and you can’t shut up long enough for me to say it.”

“Oh.” My angry drained away and that lump in my throat returned. “Uh… ok.”

She stopped pacing and turned to face me. “You know you’re important to me. I care about you. I have for a long time. You do know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I guess I didn’t realize how much my feelings had changed until you went to Cleveland. I missed you. A lot. But,” she let out a sigh, “I thought I was just used to having you around, you know? You were my patrol buddy. We had good talks, and… and you always had my back.” 

She searched my eyes for understanding. She smiled at me, apparently finding was she was searching for, then continued. “When Willow called from Cleveland and told me you guys were coming over, I was so happy that I almost cried. It took me some time to figure out that I was more excited to see you than I was to see Will. I was counting down the days. It was, well, confusing.”

She sat down on the tub next to me, staring ahead as she spoke. “I wanted to tell you all this stuff while you were here the first time, but things kept getting in the way every time I tried.”

“Like our fists?” I provided, recalling the fight in her bedroom.

She smiled sheepishly at me as she nodded. It faded, and she looked away again as she muttered, “And Cat.”

“Cat?” I asked, “What does she have to do with it?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Really? Come on Spike, your eyeballs practically shot out of your head like a cartoon character when she showed up in the towel that first morning. And I expected you to let out an ‘ah-ooo-gah’ when you saw her in that black dress. You seemed pretty happy to see her the other day too. I still have the image of her laying on top of you burned into my retinas.”

I laughed, but cut it short when pain reached my ribs. “Bloody hell, pet! I am not interested in Cat.” I shook my head, smirking. “She’s a friend, but that’s it.”

Buffy eyed me skeptically. “Slayer, I’m not blind,” I confessed, still wearing a smirk, “She’s bloody gorgeous, but she’s not you.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Bugger. Shouldn’t have said that last bit. When I opened my eyes, Buffy was watching me. Her cheeks had a slight blush to them that wasn’t there before.

“Anyway,” redirected Buffy, “I tried to tell you. Then when the Guardian Angel thing got out of hand and you had to sneak off, I thought I had missed my chance. Again.”

“So, how DO you feel? About me?”

Buffy looked at me for a while. She didn’t say anything, but I could see flashes of all sort of emotions over her features. 

“I feel…” she finally started, looking up to the ceiling. She sighed before continuing. “I feel something. Something stronger, that wasn’t there before.” 

She turned back to face me. “Look, I know that’s not what you want to hear. It’s just....I haven’t had the best of luck with saying the ‘L’ word. I don’t want to jinx it. I just think that we should give ‘us’ a shot. Sometime. Maybe. If you want. We can see what happens from there.”

We stared at one another for a full minute. I think I was in shock. It wasn’t the declaration of love I dreamed of hearing, but it was something. Buffy looked down to her knotted fingers, and I blinked to snap myself out of it.

“Coffee,” I whispered.

“Coffee?”

“Actually, make it a beer. Never was much for coffee.”

Buffy squinted at me. “Are you... asking me out?”

“No,” I protested, “I’m merely suggesting we continue this discussion over a beer. Then maybe, after that, we could make-out in the car before daddy turns on the porch light.”

Buffy smiled wide, answering with a flirtatious, “I could go for a beer.” Then her nose wrinkled up. “Maybe I’ll just get a Coke. Diet Coke.”

“You are a wild one,” I joked. I shifted my weight uncomfortably. “I hate to ruin the moment, love, but I need to move. The edge of this tub isn’t as comfy as it looks. Give me a hand?”

She stood up and helped me to my feet, leaving an arm around my waist to keep me balanced. When we reached the door, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. 

“So, you’re staying in town?” she asked.

“We’ll see how that drink goes, yeah?”


	21. Chapter 21

Buffy helped me into her bedroom so I could get dressed. I suggested that she stick around for the show, but she insisted on waiting outside the door. Worth a shot.

When I was through, she walked me into the living room to join the others. I was tired of that bloody couch, so Dawn volunteered the living chair next to Xander, and Buffy helped me get comfortable. Dawn waited for me to settle in, then plopped down on Xander’s lap again. He didn’t seem to mind, although Buffy threw them an unnoticed glare before joining Willow and Cat on the couch. 

I searched the room with my eyes, but didn’t see my sire skulking anywhere. “Angel?” I asked.

“Patrolling,” answered Willow, “He was going to go back to that store, then check out the bank to see if he could track the guy who beat-- uh, I mean, the guy.” 

I looked around, checking to see if anyone else was as confused as I was. Nope, just me then. “Bank?” 

“Yeah,” answered Xander, “looks like the dude beat up on you and then crossed town to rob a bank.”

I frowned, but Buffy stated, “No one else was hurt.” She reached forward and pulled a donut from the box on the coffee table. 

I turned up my nose. “Aren’t those stale by now?”

Buffy shook her head and answered after a couple chews with a muffled, “New donuts.”

“I’m donut man,” Xander stated, “Some of us had jobs to do while you were enjoying a bubble bath.”

Dawn pulled a small notebook out of Xander’s shirt pocket and whacked it against his chest. “Be nice,” she scolded before flipping the notebook open, “Now, we know the Fallen Angel of LA was spotted--”

“‘Fallen Angel?’ You can’t be serious,” I grumbled.

Dawn shrugged. “It’s what the news is calling you now. Well, calling him. The media’s really eating up the ‘fall from grace’ angle. Anyway, he’s been spotted at different locations around the city. I’m sure some are fake reports or people thinking they saw you, er, Pseudo-Spike. But, maybe we could plot it out on a map and compare dates? See if there’s a pattern or something? I bet he’s hitting certain areas of town, then moving to another. I hope so. That way we could sort of predict what his next stop is going to be.”

Willow rubbed her hands together to brush off some stray powdered sugar and reached for her laptop. “Great idea, Dawnie!”

Xander rubbed Dawn’s back and beamed up at her. “Smart girls are so hot.” 

Dawn matched his smile, then bent down and kissed him tenderly. When she pulled away, Xander’s voice deepened and he wagged his eyebrows. “Maybe later you could put on that little plaid skirt and--”

“LA LA LA!” Buffy yelled out with her fingers stuck in her ears. She put her hands back down, made threatening eye contact with Xander, and said, “For the love of God, do not finish that sentence.” 

“Right. Sisters. Sorry,” yammered Xander, scratching the back of his neck. Dawn stifled a giggle.

“Done,” stated Red, looking up from her computer. But, she was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“There doesn’t seem to be a pattern at all,” Willow explained, “It’s just random dots scattered all over the map. The dates are really spread out too. He’ll show up on one side of the city, but then days go by before he’s back in that area again. Sometimes up to a week.” She looked at Dawn and insisted, “It was a good thought.”

The group let out a collective sigh, but Cat spoke up. “Can I take a look?”

Willow passed the computer over to her, and Cat stared at it for a moment, clicking at a few keys.

“This isn’t random. He’s tried pretty hard to make it look like it is though,” Cat declared looking up from the screen. “There’s a pattern here.”  
She put the computer down on the coffee table so Will and Buffy could see it too. “If this dude was truly random,” she explained, “some spots would be closer to others, some would be farther away, hell some might even overlap. This one over here,” she pointed to the screen, but I couldn’t see if from my seat, “and this one here,” she moved her finger to a different point on the screen, “these are the only points that don’t follow the math. They could be some Joe Schmo thinking he saw something he didn’t, or they could be the answer we’re looking for.”

I blinked. A glance around the room told me the others were just as confused as I was.

Cat must’ve noticed the blank stares too, because she let out an “Ugh.” She took a deep breath and let it out, then calmly explained, “The first few sightings were a couple days apart, right? They seemed like they were spread out across the city, but really it made a triangle around this area. Practically an equilateral triangle!” She stopped. Her expression told me that she expected us all to have a lightbulb moment. 

We didn’t.

“Oh, an equilateral triangle! Of course!” Xander feigned enthusiastically. “So what?”

Cat dropped her head. “Just trust me, ok?” She looked up at each of us in turn as she continued, “The first few points are the only ones that matter. Pseudo-Spike purposefully went a ‘safe’ distance away from his hideout before he made himself known. Once he decided to step up his public appearances, he started systematically working his way outward around the city so it seemed random. He sort of zig zags his path so that he’s never seen in the same area two times in a row. Each trip he goes a greater distance away from the original triangle. See? The chances of this being a random spread are astronomically low. Like, winning the lottery while being bitten by a shark getting struck by lightning low.” She nodded towards the screen. “Except those two points I showed you. Those are our outliers, they don’t play by the rules like the other sightings. It means that they could be fakes. Or it could mean something else. If I were you, I would focus on this area.” She touched a spot on the screen. 

“You’re right!” exclaimed Willow with a huge grin, “Cat, you’re a genius!” Willow seemed to be the only one of us that fully understood.

Buffy frowned, then asked Cat, “Huh? I don’t get it, why there? Isn’t that one of the fake ones?”

Cat leaned back against the couch. “That spot is the only point inside the triangle formed by those first three sightings,” she explained, “Yeah, it’s an outlier point, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a false report. My guess? The asshole slipped up and got spotted sneaking back home. You’d have to check it out to be sure, but the probability ratio is high enough that I’d bet money on it.”

No one spoke for a moment. We just looked around at each other, watching as we each absorbed what Cat was saying. She did it. She found him.

Xander was the first to speak up. “I should have paid more attention in math class.”

Dawn let out an impressed, “Wow, nice work!”

Buffy wrapped an arm around her roommate. “Thanks Cat, this will be a huge help.”

“You’re right, Xander,” I said looking at Cat, “smart girls are hot.” 

Cat beamed back at me, but I got an eye roll from Buffy.


	22. Chapter 22

It was late. The Scoobies scattered about to get some sleep. Dawn and Xander disappeared into Buffy’s room while Willow followed Cat into hers. Buffy had been bunking up with Cat, but insisted on dragging the air mattress Will had been using into the living room in case I needed anything. She had to push the coffee table flush against the chairs so she could make room for it. She ended up lying the mattress perpendicular to the couch with the foot of her makeshift bed against the wall. 

A couple hours later, I was still awake. I looked over to the cable box to see the time. It was nearly 6:00am. The sun would be up soon. I listened to Buffy’s breathing, but didn’t hear the familiar pattern that comes with sleep. She was still awake too. 

“Have you talked to Angel?” I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“No,” she answered immediately, “Why?”

“It will be sunrise soon. He should be back by now.”

“No way...” I heard the air mattress squeak as she shifted to lay on her stomach and prop herself up with her elbows. I turned my head to face her. 

“Are you actually worried about Angel?” Buffy asked in disbelief.

“No,” I mumbled unconvincingly, “I just don’t want you to worry, is all.” 

“Sure, ok,” she responded sarcastically. “I asked him to go home after patrolling. I thought you two could use a break from each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Well, good.”

“You should try and get some rest.” The air mattress squeaked away again as Buffy laid back down.

“I’ve slept more in the past two days than I have since this whole ‘Angel of LA’ rubbish started,” I complained, “I’m tired of sleeping.”

“Tired of sleeping?” Buffy repeated, “You really need to get a handle on this English thing.”

“It’s a play on words, love. Maybe you should put down the stake and pick up a book sometime,” I teased.

I could hear the grin in Buffy’s voice as she said, “Go to sleep. Or I could just knock you out, if you want. Ooo, please pick that one!”

“You’re so violent, Slayer. You need a holiday. Try to relax a little. Although, there are OTHER ways to relieve stress, of course,” I suggested, smirking to myself, “Think that blow-up bed of yours would hold up?” 

Buffy laughed again, and I heard the squeak of the inflated mattress as she got up. I turned my head to watch her come over to me. 

She got on her knees and sat down on her heels so that her face was at eye level from my spot on the couch. She ran her hand over my cheek. I smiled into it, but then she gave my face a light slap as she commented playfully, “You’re still a pig, Spike.”

“Ow,” I said, trying to sound cross. It didn’t hurt, but I didn’t want her to know that. 

She turned her back to me and laid back down on her air mattress. Once she got settled in, I added, “That’s no way to treat your guests.” 

“It’s not?” she uttered innocently. “I seem to remember a time when you were chained to a bathtub instead of resting on a comfy sofa. Would you be more comfortable tied up?”

“Touché, Slayer,” I relented, “Guess it’s beddie-bye for me, then.” 

“Goodnight, Spike,” Buffy replied with sincerity.

“Goodnight, love.” I closed my eyes and actually drifted to sleep.

I awoke about an hour later to the sound of Buffy’s cellphone ringing. I heard her groan and heard the familiar squeak of the plastic mattress as she turned over. Her hand fumbled along the floor to search for her phone. 

She found it, touched a button at the bottom of the screen, and answered, all with her eyes still closed. “Hello?” she mumbled into it.

I pushed myself up to a near sitting position to get a better view of the Slayer as she spoke. I could faintly detect a male voice on the other end of the line when he responded, but I couldn’t tell who it was or what he was saying.

Buffy’s eyes shot open when she heard the man speak. The sleep still hung on her voice, but she was alert now. “Hey. Find anything?” she asked.

The man spoke again. While he did, Buffy sat up and met my eyes. I raised my eyebrows expectantly and Buffy nodded. Whatever he was telling her had to do with my imposter. 

She listened for a moment longer, then interjected, “Hold on a sec. I want Spike to hear this too.” 

She got up and sat on the arm of the couch next to me, holding her phone out in front of her. I saw “Call from: Angel” in block letters across the top. Buffy touched an icon below the text, then said, “Ok, I have you on speaker.”

Angel’s voice flooded out from the phone. “Any better, Spike?”

I squirmed and shifted my weight around a little to see what aches and pains persisted. My hip didn’t hurt anymore, but my side was still tender. I could see out of both eyes now too, so the swelling must’ve gone down quite a bit. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine by nightfall,” I answered, although Buffy shook her head. I ignored her. “What have you got?”

“I went back to the store, but didn’t find much,” he explained, “The only blood there was yours. The police had cleared the scene, so there wasn’t much to see. But, I followed the same path out as your double did in that video, and I found a couple knives the cops missed under some brush. He must’ve dropped them running away.”

“Ok, so you recovered some stolen property,” I said, unimpressed. I looked back to Buffy, “Why did I need to hear this again?”

“Just listen,” she shushed me.

Angel continued. “There was a drop or two of blood on one of them. This time, not yours. The guy must’ve cut himself carrying all that stuff. The rain cleared most of it out, but I was able to get a lock on his scent trail. It led to an abandoned building. A theater, I think.”

“Did you go in?” Buffy asked.

“No.” 

“Well why the hell not?” I demanded. Buffy narrowed her eyes at me.

“They had two guards outside,” Angel answered evenly, as if he was trying to keep his own anger in check. “There might have been more that I couldn’t see. I thought the three of us could take a closer look tonight. If you’re up for it.”

Buffy opened up Will’s laptop that was still sitting on the coffee table, then asked Angel, “Where is this theater?”

He rattled off a couple of road names I didn’t recognize, and Buffy typed them into a map program on the computer. A wide grin spread out across her face. 

“She really was right,” Buffy muttered, then turned around to face me. She pointed at the computer screen as she clarified, “It’s that spot Cat told us to check out.”


	23. Chapter 23

I continued to improve as the day dragged on. By mid-afternoon, the pain that was flaring up anytime I tried to move had faded to a manageable ache. Xander informed me that my eye was still black by way of offering to loan me his eye patch to cover the bruise. As Buffy would say, eww.

I was sitting in the middle of that bloody couch again, flipping between a DIY show and a poor excuse for a survival reality series, when Cat plopped down on my left. She wore a pair of snug black jeans and a white button-down shirt. She had tied the bottom of her shirt so that a hint of her midriff showed. The first few buttons of her top were undone, requiring a conscious effort on my part to keep my eyes from wandering. She had twisted her hair into a bun, using a couple of black chopsticks to hold it in place. 

“Hey,” she greeted, leaning her shoulder against mine.

“Hey,” I replied. “I haven’t had the chance to ask. How’s the arm?”

Cat sat up and rolled her left shoulder backward and forward. “Not bad. It’s almost back to normal. How’s your…” she opened her palm and motioned over my face and torso, “everywhere?”

“Better. Almost back to normal here too.”

“So not fair,” she pouted. “I spend two weeks in a sling with weeks more of therapy to go. What do you do to heal up? Take a bath and a nap. Poof, all better!”

I snorted. “Fast healing. It is a perk. Has its downsides though. Don’t forget, I had to trade in sunlight, my reflection, and my soul for it.”

“Who needs a boring old soul anyway?” joked Cat. “Beside, you got that part back. No problem.”

“Yeah, that was easy as pie.”

Cat leaned against me again, and I put my arm around her. We sat like that staring at the telly for a few minutes before she spoke again.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“One question.”

I leaned my head against the back of the couch and groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? Go on then.”

She shifted in her seat to face me. “When was the last time you bit someone?”

“Bloody hell, Cat,” I exclaimed with a frown, “Why do you want to know that?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Do demons count?”

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. 

I thought for a moment, then asked, “What about ghosts? Well, Cordelia wasn’t actually a ghost, more like a loaner body. Besides, that was just a taste to see if she was evil. Which she wasn’t, thankfully.”

Cat crossed her eyes and blinked a few times. “What? Who’s-- You know, nevermind. Guess I need to revise my question. How about this: When was the last time you bit someone to drink their blood?”

“Well… It would have been a few months after I got my soul,” I answered solemnly. I stared forward and allowed my vision to blur out of focus as I thought back to the last time I nearly killed Buffy. That sodding basement. 

My voice grew somber as I continued, “I was feeding again, killing people. At least a dozen. I made them monsters, like me. Every bloody one of them. I would’ve killed Andrew too if Buffy hadn’t pulled me off of him.” 

My eyes travelled to Cat’s, expecting to see fear again. Instead, she looked concerned. I cleared my throat, and returned to a more jovial cadence as I said, “Then again I was brainwashed at the time, so that doesn’t really count either, does it?”

“Jesus, Spike!” Cat burst out, relief and frustration showing on her face simultaneously, “What HASN’T happened to you?”

I let out a laugh as Cat moaned, “Ugh! Ok, let’s try again. When did you last bite someone ON PURPOSE, under your own free will, to drink his or her blood? For food. For you.”

I searched my memory for a second, then answered, “November, 1999.”

“Finally!” she exclaimed, exasperated, then frowned. “Wow, that is really specific. Like ridiculously specific.”

“Yeah, well, it was a fairly memorable point in my life. That was when the GI Jokes grabbed me and shoved that chip in my head.”

“Who did what now?”

“Government boys. A chip. In my brain. It would shock the hell out of me if I tried to hurt a human. It started misfiring a few years later, but I had my soul to keep me in check by then. So, Buffy and I snuck back into the secret government torture chamber and had them take it out.”

“Seriously?!” Cat yelled, jumping to her feet, “That’s the craziest thing I have ever heard! It’s like you’ve been living some bad, supernatural-themed soap opera.”

“I’d watch it,” I mumbled.

“Weirdo,” she commented, shaking her head as she flopped back down.

“I think I should get a question in return, yeah?”

“Sure, it’s only fair to reciprocate,” Cat teased, playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

I snorted. “Cheers, pet. Fair warning, this one’s going to be a toughy.”

Cat’s expression turned serious. “It’s ok, Spike. What do you want to know?”

I leaned in closer to her and softly asked, “When do I get to start calling you ‘Ginger?’”

Cat’s mouth gaped open, and she threw a light punch to my arm followed by a playful shove. We were both laughing when Buffy came into the living room. 

“You guys seem like you’re having fun,” commented Buffy.

“Oh. Hey there, Slayer,” I replied, trying not to look guilty.

Buffy looked from me to Cat. I watched as Buffy’s eyes widened, and she flushed slightly. I frowned. What was that all about? I heard little wet, suction noises next to me and turned my head fast enough to catch Cat puckering her lips and making little kissing motions.

I glared at Cat and shook my head. She let a mischievous grin settle on her face, and I turned back to Buffy as she stomped off toward the kitchen. I pushed myself up off the couch, walking without pain for change, and followed Buffy into the kitchen. 

“So what’s the plan, love?” I asked, ignoring the little giggles coming from the living room.

Buffy grabbed a yogurt cup out of the refrigerator and a spoon from a drawer, then sat down at the table. “Well,” she started, scooping up a bite of yogurt, “that depends on you. So, I have a question for ya. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I answered quickly. 

She maintained eye contact as she deposited another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth, and gave me the patented Buffy Summers “I don’t believe you” look. Historically, that expression came along with a punch to my nose, so I instinctively took a step back. Can’t be too careful.

“Really, pet.” 

Her expression didn’t change. I sighed in defeat. 

“My side is still a little sore,” I confessed, “but my head doesn’t hurt anymore. No more dizzy spells, either. I’ll be even better by sundown.”

“I don’t know, Spike,” she replied, looking down to attend to her yogurt, “You might be better off if--”

“I’ve fought through worse,” I interrupted. She looked back up at me. “You know that. I’m not sitting this out. This one’s personal.”

She stood up to throw away the empty yogurt container. She tried to balance her spoon on top of the pile of dirty dishes in sink, but it teetered off and fell to the floor. She sighed, but ignored it.

“Ok,” she finally relented, “but you’re sticking with me. First time you take a hit to your side, you’re out of there.”

“The hell I am!” I countered.

“I mean it,” Buffy threatened, “Otherwise you can just stay here with Cat and Dawn.”

I squinted at her. I let my voice turn cold as I said, “I’ve done enough babysitting for you, Buffy. I am going to that theater tonight, whether you like it or not.”

Buffy straightened and her stance hardened as the slayer in her took over once more. She stepped up to get in my face. Her green eyes darkened, and I could nearly feel the heat of fury that was visible on her cheeks. Her voice came out quiet and calm, but stern. “You either stay with me, and do what I say, or you stay here. That’s it. I will chain you up if I have to, and the girls can babysit YOU.”

I stared at her defiantly, but she didn’t back down. It took me a moment to realize I had both hands balled into fists at my sides and was clenching my jaw tight. I closed my eyes, making a conscious effort to relax, then opened them again. 

“Fine, Slayer. You win.”

“Good.” She softened instantly. She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze before she let go. “Now, I need to tell you something. Don’t freak out.”

“Uh... ok.”

“We’re gathering up here tonight to go over details,” she explained, “which means that Angel will be here too. Please try to get along.”

I crossed my arms. “As long as HE doesn’t--”

“Please, Spike.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, but she poked out her bottom lip and fluttered her eyelashes at me as she purred out, “Pretty please.” I’m sure she meant it as a joke, probably a dig on Cat, but it was right sexy. Dammit.

I tried to keep from smiling, but felt one corner of my mouth turn up anyway. “Yeah, all right.”

Buffy’s pout became a smug smile, but it disappeared when she turned her attention to the unruly pile of dishes. I reached down, plucked the abandoned spoon from the floor, and set it on the counter next to the sink. See? I can be nice. Even after being downgraded to a bloody sidekick. I may have bent the handle a little. Not as much as I wanted to. Very big of me, considering.

I sulked back to my seat on the couch, placing my arm along the back of it. Cat tried to console me by patting my leg with her hand a couple times, then got up and went to the kitchen to help Buffy with the dishes. 

Just me and the ol’ Idiot Box. Still nothing on the bloody thing. ‘How I Met Your Mother’ rerun it is, then.


	24. Chapter 24

About 15 minutes later, my show ended, and I was back to flipping through channels. The front door opened, and Xander, Dawn, and Willow stepped through. They had gone out for a supply run just over an hour earlier. Willow and Dawn dropped off a couple grocery bags at the kitchen table. Junk food, if I had to guess. Willow chatted with Buffy and Cat while she started putting groceries away. Xander strode into the living area with Dawn on his heels. He brought over a bundle of wooden dowels that were about the width of a beer bottle and were cut in 8 to 10 inch lengths. He let them spill onto the coffee table in front of me. 

Xander reached into his back pocket and pulled out a substantial knife, thrusting the handle side towards me. “Get to work Michelangelo,” he said as I accepted it.

“Gee Boss, do you think we have enough?” I asked sarcastically.

“Too many is better than not enough. Now get to work before I dock your pay.” He turned and gave Dawn a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading back outside. Must have some more supplies in the car.

Dawn pulled out a knife of her own and sat down next to me. I grabbed the small dustbin which had been crammed between the two living chairs, settled it between Dawn and me, and started whittling away at a dowel. She picked out a dowel and started shaving it down too. 

“You look better,” she said as we worked, “How are you doing?”

“I’m at 90 percent,” I answered. 

She looked up at me with sceptical eyes. 

I narrowed my eyes and snapped, “Fine, 80. Happy now?”

Dawn raised her hands in front of her in surrender. It looked less yielding than she hoped for though, seeing as she was holding her knife in one hand and a partially sharpened stake in the other. 

“Ok, ok. We’ll talk about something else.” Her eyes moved towards the kitchen and lingered on Buffy, then came back to me.

“Not that either,” I barked out before Dawn could open her mouth.

Dawn frowned, but nodded and got back to work. A few gloriously quiet seconds went by before Dawn spoke up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Everyone else is,” I mumbled, setting my finished stake on the floor.

Dawn quirked her head to the side, so I shook my head and grabbed another dowel. “It’s nothing. Of course you can, Niblet. What is it?”

Her eyes darted between the closed front door and the kitchen. She leaned toward me and whispered, “Have you noticed anything weird with Xander?”

I snorted. “Where to start…” She didn’t find my remark as entertaining as I did, so I added seriously, “Same old Xander, as far as I can tell. Why?”

She shrugged, placing a finished stake on the seat next to her. “He just seems, I don’t know, off. I’ve caught him staring at me a few times, and it’s like he didn’t even notice he was doing it.”

“It’s called ‘love’, pet. And from where I sit, it looks like he’s got a bad case of it.”

Dawn blushed a little. She started chipping away at another dowel. “This is different,” she said quietly, “It’s only been happening for the past few weeks. He gets this weird look on his face, like he’s about to puke or something. You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you? I mean, it’s been really great between us. I think so, anyway. Do you think so?”

I licked my lips to hide my smirk and set down another finished stake. “Dawnie, I’m sure it’s not what you think. He adores you. Maybe you should talk to him about it, yeah?”

On cue, the front door opened back up, and Xander stumbled in with a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He dropped the bag off at the kitchen table, then joined in conversation with the girls at the sink.

Dawn watched him for a moment, then said, “Yeah, maybe.”

Xander looked over mid-conversation and beamed at Dawn, who returned the grin. I picked up another dowel and pretended not to notice. 

Xander parted ways with the girls and joined Dawn and me. He picked up one of the stakes I had finished and spun it around in the fingers of one hand before losing control of the bloody thing. It bobbled between his hands three or four times until he managed to send it careening toward Dawn. I shot out a hand and caught it mid-air before it could connect with Dawn’s head. 

I glowered up at him, and he scratched the back of his neck with one hand. “Oops. Uh, nice catch,” he spluttered.

“Leave the flashy moves to the Slayer, all right?” I warned as I tossed the stake back on the floor, “I’d rather not catch the next one with my chest.”

Xander saluted, then stepped around me to sit in the living chair next to the couch. He planted a kiss on the top of Dawn’s head on the way. 

“I wonder how many other vampires sit around carving stakes,” Xander mused.

“Not many, I’d wager,” I responded. 

Xander pulled out another knife and started carving a stake too. The three of us plugged along until each dowel had a sharp, deadly tip. We collected our work into a neat pile on top of the coffee table. 

Buffy and Cat had finished the dishes, and Buffy came to join us on the couch while Cat and Willow started making dinner for the group. Buffy picked up a stake, inspected it approvingly, then stuck it in her back pocket. 

“It will be sunset soon,” Dawn stated, glancing at the time on the cable box. She looked to her sister. “Shouldn’t we go over the plan?”

“Not yet,” answered Buffy, “We’ll go through the details once Angel gets here.”

I felt Xander’s and Dawn’s gazes on my face, but I didn’t make eye contact. I willed my features to remain neutral, and it actually worked. 

“Any other prep work need to be done?” I asked.

Buffy smiled faintly and shook her head. “This should do it. Are you sure you don’t know that vamp that attacked you?”

“Never saw him before,” I responded.

“What about the other guy?” Dawn asked.

I frowned. “What other guy?”

Xander reached to the coffee table to fiddle with another stake, but leaned back after I shot him a warning glare. “Uh, you know. The one that robbed the bank.” 

“That was the same bloke, right?” I responded. I looked to Buffy, and she shrugged. I slouched down and grumbled, “It’s bad enough having one evil twin running around. So we’re what? Triplets?”

“The bank released some stills of ‘Bank Robber Spike’ next to one of those height thingies by the door,” explained Buffy, “He’s a little over 6 feet tall.”

“So?”

“So,” Dawn jumped in, “how tall was the guy you ran into?”

I thought for a moment, then straightened up and met Buffy’s eyes. “He was about my height, maybe a hair shorter even.”

“There could be more than just those two guys,” Buffy said.

Xander raised his hand. “Uh, are we talking quints here or something more Duggar level?”

“Will’s been comparing some of the tapes,” answered Buffy, “but it’s hard to tell for sure. We should plan on a couple Spikes each, just in case.”


	25. Chapter 25

Sunset finally came, and with it, Angel. He grabbed a chair from the dining table and joined the Scoobies, Cat, and me in the living room. Dawn busied herself collecting abandoned dinner plates and my empty mug, then headed toward the kitchen.

She held my cup towards Angel on her way by, asking, “Would you like some?”

“No thanks. I ate before I left,” he said, offering her a smile. Well, the little quirk of a lip that passes as his smile, anyway. 

Dawn deposited the dishes into the sink, then returned to her seat on the floor at Xander’s feet. Things got quiet. I glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone was going to speak up, and saw everyone else nervously looking about too. Buffy was sitting next to me, staring down at her folded hands in her lap.

I placed my hand on her knee to draw her attention, then gave her a nudge with my shoulder. “You’re on, pet.”

She nodded and stood up to face the group, missing the cold glare I received from her ex. “Ok guys. We’re going to go over everything we know so far, just in case anyone’s missed something.”

Buffy took a deep breath before she spoke. “Spike has at least two lookalikes running around LA, that we know for sure.” She tilted her head at the witch. “Willow, why don’t you tell them what you found?” 

Willow gave her friend a nod. “There’s definitely a few of you,” she said, looking to me before scanning the rest of the group, “Uh, I mean, them. I’m guessing at least four based on differences in height and build. But a lot of the footage is pretty low quality, so there could be even more.”

“Which means,” continued Buffy, “we need to prepare for the worst. Don’t let your guard down once we’ve taken out a couple of these Pseudo-Spikes. Chances are, there will be more of them. If you see a bleached blonde wearing all black, he’s a bad guy, no hesitations.”

Xander spoke up, looking at me. “Good thing you had that makeover, eh Blondie B--” He stopped himself, probably because of the fiery glare I shot his way. 

“Uh, what I mean to say is,” he stammered, “now you’re less likely to get killed by friendly fire.”

“LESS likely?” I complained, laughing a little. “Harris, you kill me, and I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“You don’t want that,” Angel chimed in. “Spike is twice as annoying as a ghost.” He stared me down, adding, “Except that disappearing thing you’d do. That, I liked.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was being pulled into Hell. Literal Hell.”

“So I heard,” he said dismissively, then turned to Buffy, “Can we get back to work?”

I leaned forward and opened my mouth to tell him off, but I caught a glimpse of Buffy. She had one hand in a fist resting on her hip, and her other hand was rubbing her temple. She looked tired. Bollocks. I snapped my mouth shut and slumped back in my seat, crossing my arms. I did promise her to be tolerant, after all. Didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

Buffy watched me sulk for a second, then turned to Angel. “Are you done?”

A wide grin spread across my face as Angel shifted awkwardly in his seat. I didn’t dare let Buffy see it, so I wiped at my chin to hide my smile until I could manage a neutral expression. When she glanced back to me I wanted to jump to my feet and swoop her up in one of those spinning hugs Xander loves so much, but I settled for sending a little nod of thanks in her direction. 

“Like I was saying,” she continued, “plan on lots of bad guys. We know they have guards on the door, so there may be some non-Spike-looking guys inside too. From what we can tell so far, it looks like they’re all vamps. I want everyone to grab a couple stakes. Xander, do you still have that crossbow?”

“Yep. It’s on the table,” he answered.

“Great. Keep it. Everyone else, grab something from the weapons chest on your way out. Dawn and Cat, I want you guys to man the car.”

“What?” exclaimed Dawn, “I can fight, Buffy!”

“I know you can,” she responded softly, “but I need you and Cat to be ready in case some of us get hurt. You both know First Aid. I’ll need one of you to drive while the other helps the injured. Please Dawn, it’s the best way for you to help on this one.”

Cat looked relieved to be sidelined. Dawn looked from Cat to Buffy, then huffed and crossed her arms. She grumbled out a surly, “Fine.” Dawnie was a smart girl. Surely she knew Buffy wanted her to keep an eye on her roommate.

Buffy gave her sister a nod, then continued to explain the plan. “Willow’s going to whammy any surveillance equipment in the area, just in case they’re watching from inside. Then, Angel and I will take out the guards. Spike and Xander, I want you guys to stay hidden and watch our backs until we signal you. We’ll head into the theater as a group. Once we’re in there I want everyone to stay together. Spike, you’re sticking with me, right?”

Angel’s oversized brow furrowed as I nodded. “Like glue, pet.”

Willow opened her laptop, angling it so we could see the screen. It was an image of worn, wrinkled blue paper with neat, white lines scrawled on it. “I found these blueprints in the city’s records department. It’s the layout of the theater back when it was in use.” She pointed to a spot on the screen. “This in the front entrance, where Angel saw the guards. It opens into a big lobby, with concession stands on either side.”

 

“Both would be good hidey holes for bad guys. We should check those out once we make it inside,” Buffy stated.

We turned back to Willow when she pointed at a spot on the screen. “There are two sets of double doors to enter the theater, then about 40 rows of seating before you get to the stage. There’s a basement, so there could be a trapdoor on the stage somewhere. Maybe. It doesn’t show up on here, so it’s just a guess. There’s a single exit into the parking lot off the left side of the stage. Or is it the right side? How does that work in theater again?”

“Stage right. It’s based on the performer’s point of view,” said Angel. When he saw the quiet surprise on our faces, he added, “Lorne explained it to me once.”

“Nice work, Will,” acknowledged Buffy, pulling us back to the matter at hand. “Dawn, Cat, I want you guys to park so that you can see both exits. Just in case we need to get someone out in a hurry.”

The girls nodded. Cat looked paler than she did a few minutes ago.

Buffy looked around the room. She grabbed another stake from the coffee table. “Questions?”

Cat cleared her throat. “Yeah, um. What do we do if we see vampires leaving before we see you?”

“Drive,” I instructed before Buffy could answer, “You run. Don’t try to hide because it won’t help.” 

Cat gulped. “Yeah, so that sounds horrible. We’re just supposed to leave you guys?”

Buffy backed me up. “He’s right. If they get through us, you get out of there. Don’t look back.”

“It won’t come to that,” Dawn told Cat confidently, “we have a pretty good system down by now.”

Cat took a deep breath, then released it slowly in an effort to calm herself. “Ok. Whatever you say.”

“Everyone ready?” Buffy asked, twirling the stake around in her hand.

“I can do that,” mumbled Xander. Dawn shushed him.

Buffy took a last look around the room, then said, “Let’s move.”


	26. Chapter 26

We were all crammed inside Xander’s sedan. Willow half-sat half-squatted between Xander, who was driving, and the passenger seat shared by Dawn and Cat. Angel and I sat in the back with Buffy and an arsenal of weapons in between us. Fitting. 

Xander cut the lights and rolled down the windows as we drew near, letting the car idle into a spot at the back of the abandoned theater’s lot before cutting the engine. There was light bleeding through the dirty windows of the theater, and a couple lights glowed outside the main entrance too.

I only spotted two guards. They were chatting out front. One was average height, but broad. He wore a bulky, tan work jacket and jeans. The other was short, thin, and wore a pair of dark tinted sunglasses despite the obvious lack of sunlight. He wore a black button-down shirt and gray trousers, as if he had come from a business meeting or something. The broad one was passing a cigarette to his cohort. As the short one reached out to take it, I saw a glint of something metallic on his belt.

“Buffy,” I whispered without looking away from my view of the guards, “they have guns.”

“We’ll be careful,” she assured me, placing her hand gently on my shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” Angel whispered. He opened his door, and the car’s bloody interior light turned on. The damn thing spilled bright, yellowish light over all of us. Everyone froze. Everyone except Angel. He moved fast, but with control, swinging the door closed without a sound. The light went out. I noticed Buffy was holding her breath.

We stayed statue still, but nothing happened. They hadn’t seen us. Buffy released her breath, then shot a murderous stare at Xander.

“Oops,” he whispered. He reached up to the overhead light and flipped a switch. “All better.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, then made eye contact with Angel and flicked her chin at his door. He opened it again, cautiously this time, but the interior spotlight didn’t come on. He silently exited the car in a crouch. Buffy handed him the supply of weapons, and he laid the bag and loose weapons on the ground while Buffy climbed out. I slid out behind her, then pressed gently against the door until I heard the soft click of it closing. Xander got out as quietly as he could. Not quite as stealthy as us vampires or the Slayer, but not bad. I let Willow crawl out and Dawn scoot from the passenger side to behind the wheel before I eased the driver door shut. 

Willow set about placing various herbs and crystals around in the shape a circle. She then set a small metal bowl in the center and sat cross-legged in front of it. She set her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. Mojo time. 

While Willow did her thing, Buffy and Angel sorted through the weapons. Angel picked up a sword and slung it over his shoulder while Buffy pulled the Scythe out of the bag. She also grabbed the crossbow and handed it to Xander. He set about loading a sharpened wooden arrow into it. 

I leaned my forearms against the edge of the lowered driver’s window while the others geared up. I poked my head down so I could see both girls inside. 

“You two all right in here?” I asked them quietly, although I was mostly talking to Cat.

Dawn nodded, then turned to check on Cat. Cat looked frightened, but whispered, “Yeah. I think we’ll be really great at this waiting thing.”

Dawn and I exchanged smiles, and I stepped away to grab a couple weapons myself. I shoved a stake into the back pocket of my jeans and picked up the pool cue. Both ends had been carved down and sanded into sharp points. I spun it around in a figure eight to get a feel for it. Nice. I propped it against my shoulder once I was done and caught Xander’s eye. I nodded to a concrete barrier roughly 100 feet away, which seemed like a good bit of cover within view of the guards. Xander followed my gaze and nodded. 

Angel, Buffy, Xander, and I huddled near the back of the car, waiting for Will to give us the go-ahead. Buffy set her eyes on mine and mouthed, “Like. Glue.” 

I scoffed and waved a dismissive hand her way, but mouthed back, “Ok.”

Red stood up, keeping her head low, and brushed some of the lot’s dirt from her backside. She hunched down and came to join us at the end of the car. 

“Cameras should be down,” she whispered, “but I’m not sure how long it will hold.”

“Best guess?” asked Buffy.

Will shrugged. “Five to ten minutes maybe.”

Buffy peered around the car at the guards, then whispered to Angel, “Let’s get to work. We’re on the clock.”

She and Angel stayed low, moving silently in a long arc towards opposite sides of the theater. I tapped Xander and started moving towards the concrete barrier, staying close to the ground. He followed me. Once we were in place, I peered around the edge of the barrier. Xander did the same on his side. The guards were still chatting away, but maintained their positions in front of the door. 

I caught a flicker of movement at a dark corner of the building. The Slayer. She was crouching down, soundlessly gliding over the pavement toward one of the guards. God, I loved to watch her in action. I took a risk and craned my head farther around the edge to see Angel sneaking up beside the other guard. They were each about 50 feet from their targets now. I resumed cover, then looked past Xander to check on the girls. Willow was still hunkered down at the rear of the car, staring at us for the ok to move. Dawn and Cat were motionless, watching Buffy and Angel approach the guards as well.

I peeked back around the barrier and heard a twig snap. Buffy froze in place. The guards got quiet and pulled out matching black, heavy duty torches. They clicked the torches to life and started waving them along the ground, each swipe getting wider and a little farther away from where they stood. It was just a matter of time before they spotted Buffy or Angel. Buffy flattened herself against the wall as best she could, and Angel squatted down to use the shadows and his black jacket to hide himself. It wasn’t going to work for much longer. The light from the guards’ torches swung closer to Buffy. Another pass or two and she would be made. 

I leaned my back against the barrier, frantically searching for a way to help. I found it. A section of the concrete had a deep crack in it, exposing a rusty bit of rebar within the barrier. I worked my fingers into the crack, ignoring the small scrapes and cuts resulting from the concrete’s jagged edges, and pulled. The concrete gave way, creating two misshapen chunks roughly the size of softballs. I picked one up and launched it away from the building toward the broken chain link fence along the back of the property. Before it had a chance to hit, I reared back and threw out the other chunk in the same direction. The first one connected hard shortly after the second one left my hand. The fence rattled, then shook more violently when the second one hit. 

Xander stared at me, his hands up in a questioning motion. I pressed my index finger to my lips and listened. I heard hurried, but quiet footsteps. The guards were moving toward the sound cautiously. They must have suspected something was up, because they paused after coming forward no more than 10 feet or so. Still, the distraction worked. I heard a hollow thud followed by a muted cry. Next was the sharp swish of steel through the air, then silence. I peered around the barrier once more to see Angel and Buffy standing over two neat piles of vampire dust. Buffy turned her back to us, looking up at the door. 

“Come on,” I muttered to Xander. He motioned for Willow to move forward with us.

We crept up to join Angel and Buffy near the front entrance, pausing for a moment so Xander could unload the fallen guns. Buffy looked over her shoulder at me as we caught up, so I took an additional couple steps forward to stand at her side. Glue.

“Thanks for the diversion,” she whispered, leaning her head toward me. 

“Watch your step, yeah? I may not have a rock handy next time,” I whispered back.

Buffy motioned for Angel to take the lead, so he stepped forward and grabbed onto the handle of the heavy, deteriorating door. He looked over his shoulder at us. He had changed into vamp face and raised his monstrous brow as if he were asking if we were ready.

I took a last look at the car, but didn’t see any indication of Cat or Dawn. They must be in duck and cover mode. Good girls. I shook into my game face too and nodded once at my sire. Angel carefully opened the door, which gave out a little creak. We stepped into the dark lobby and let the door close us in.


	27. Chapter 27

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Stale, burned, popcorn and the saccharine sweetness of old, sticky, spilled carbonated drinks had seeped into the peeling, striped wallpaper and dusty, worn carpet. Sure enough, two concession stands were positioned on either side of the lobby. I nudged Buffy with my elbow and indicated that I was going to check out the one on the right. She held up a finger, telling me to wait. She put a hand on Angel’s shoulder and directed him, Willow, and Xander to the stand on the left, then turned back to me and nodded.

Buffy and I ghosted over to the concession stand, and I leaned on the dingy counter to scan over the other side. Pretty standard looking, although it scored high on the creepy scale. Behind the counter were two disassembled, blackened drink machines; a popcorn maker with a fuzzy, green film along the bottom that crept up its greasy glass walls; and some dusty boxes of forgotten candy bars. Nothing appeared explosive, and no one was hiding back there, so I gave Buffy the thumbs up.

I heard a little “eww” coming from the other concession stand. Buffy and I looked over to find Xander wiping his hand on his jeans with a disgusted look on his face. Willow passed him a paper napkin from the still full dispenser. Angel looked at us and shook his head, so Buffy motioned for them to meet us back in the middle of the room. 

We stood facing the double doors leading into the main theater. A narrow, rectangular window was set into each door. It was mostly clouded over with grime, but light was able to shine through from inside. Shadows passed in front, blocking out the light sporadically. Someone was in there. Several someones.

Buffy moved closer and wiped a small corner of the window clean so she could peek through. She bent down, closed one eye, and peered inside. A second later, Buffy shot back up and flattened herself against the wall beside the door. Her wide-eyed expression made us all follow suit. Angel ended up against the left wall with Willow while Buffy, Xander, and I pressed against the right wall.

“Hey, what’d you see, Buff?” Xander whispered after a long second.

Buffy looked at him, then at me, her soft green eyes still wide open. “There’s a lot more of them than we thought.”

I frowned, and leaned forward to get a look at Angel. He had heard what she said. I got back against the wall. “How many?” I muttered to Buffy.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I couldn’t tell for sure, but if I had to guess? Three, maybe four dozen.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. “Bollocks.”

“Dozen? There’s no way we can take them all.” Xander rubbed a hand through his hair, adding, “Can we?”

I looked back to Angel, who was nervously whispering the information to Willow. The witch’s eyes doubled in size and her mouth gaped open, but only for a second. Her expression quickly changed to a confident resolve. She thrust her hands down at her sides, palms facing out and her fingers spread wide. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, then started muttering something in Latin. Wisps of green light flew in from around us and started building up at the center of each of her palms while she continued chanting. The lights grew brighter as the wisps twisted upon themselves, eventually forming two baseball-sized, glowing, green spheres of energy. Willow glided over the floor, her feet hovering a couple inches off the ground as the green light continued to swirl around her. She stopped in front of the doors. 

Willow lifted her chin and slowly opened her eyes to stare at the door. She tilted her head toward me just slightly. Her eyes were, well, unsettling. What was normally a cheery green was now completely dark. Even the whites of her eyes were a deep black. I would’ve taken a step backward if I weren’t already plastered against the wall. I heard a whisper of something that sounded like “Hear me,” but I couldn’t get a good feel for where it was coming from. I turned to my right, but it was just Xander, who was too dumbstruck to say anything. I heard it again, but this time it was clear. 

Spike. Hear me. Red’s voice was coming from inside my head. She sounded calm and commanding, although her lips never moved. 

“Yeah, I hear you,” I responded aloud. Buffy gave me a puzzled look, but I ignored her.

Open the doors. Then get out of the way. Now.

I stepped around Buffy, grabbed the handle of each door, and flung them open wide. I caught a glimpse of numerous blonde heads, then jumped back behind the witch. 

Willow floated through the doorway, shouting aloud, “Ab igne!”

The collected green balls of light launched from her hands and expanded quickly as they rushed outward. My surprised doubles turned around as Temple of Doom-esque boulders of energy rushed towards them, crushing rows of seats as if they were cardboard. Tendrils of green flame flicked out as they rolled. Nearly half of the vampires dove out of the way or scrambled up onto the stage, but others closest to us weren’t fast enough. One giant, green globe crushed into four of them, turning them to dust instantly. Flares of green shot out from the other sphere, catching another six vampires on fire, charring them to ash seconds later. Panicked vampires clambered for cover. I watched another tendril of green from the first one nearly hit a group of Spikes, setting the damaged seating they were cowering behind to flame instead. 

As I watched one deadly sphere of energy continue its descent toward the stage, the other lifted up into the air. It stopped rising once it came within five feet of the ornate, vaulted ceiling. Will had moved farther into the room, and had her right arm raised high above her head. Her breathing was fast and hard now, and her right hand shook as she struggled to maintain the spell. 

She turned her head over her shoulder, eyes still black, and yelled back to us, “Spike, Angel, get clear! NOW!”

Angel and I looked at each other, dropped our weapons where we stood, and bounded toward the lobby. We threw the doors shut behind us. 

I looked between the closed door and Angel a couple times. “We should be safe out here. Right?”

“Right,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Sure.”

We heard Willow’s voice bellow out, “Ortis inferni!” from inside, followed by a loud pop. It sounded like the burst of an overfilled balloon, only multiplied by a thousand. 

Angel and I met eyes. “Bugger.”

We took off toward a concession stand, diving over the counter. My healing side strained, but I’d rather be sore than dead. We landed hard against the wall and immediately huddled together in the darkest corner we could find. Streaks of blinding green flooded into the lobby, followed by a whooshing current of air. Angel opened his coat to give us both some additional cover, and I scooted in to press myself as close to him as I could manage. Even so, I felt the sear of sunlight against the back of my neck and upper arm as we tried to shield ourselves. Damn, I missed my duster. The light faded after 2 or 3 seconds, but a gentle green glow persisted overhead, so Angel and I didn’t dare move from the safety of our corner. 

We were still hugging against each other when Xander’s head poked out from over the counter. “They’re ok!” he yelled over his shoulder. 

Xander directed his attention back to us. “Of all the times to not have my cellphone,” he fussed, “This would make a great Christmas card photo.” 

Angel and I exchanged awkward looks, then pushed away from each other and climbed to our feet. We shook out of vamp face and glowered at Xander as we brushed God knows what off the back of our clothes. He was grinning like an idiot when he handed me the sharpened pool cue and gave Angel his sword.

Buffy appeared in the doorway, “Guys! Little help?” I heard a thud come from the theater, and Buffy darted back inside. 

The three of us ran in to join her. Buffy was sitting on her heels, supporting Willow’s head on her knees. Will was lying supine in the aisle, her breathing labored. Her eyes had returned to their usual shade of green.

“Did it work?” Willow panted. “Did I get them?”

Buffy rubbed a hand over her friend’s hair. “Yeah Will, you did it.”

I looked around the room. Two channels had been forced through the rows of seating on each side of the central aisle. Mounds of dust were gathered around scorched chairs and lined the paths each sphere took toward the stage. The ceiling still glowed a residual green. 

“Bloody hell,” I mumbled in awe. I looked down at Willow. “Thanks for the warning, Red. That was one hell of a spell.”

Willow smiled a little. “I’ve been wanting to try that one out. Did you see how big it was?” She tried to sit up, but grimaced and laid back against Buffy again. “I, uh, oh jeez. I don’t think I’ll be using it again anytime soon. Ouchie.”

Angel tapped my back, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He was staring at the stage. “We’re not alone,” he hissed quietly through gritted teeth.

I followed his eyes and saw movement behind the faded, red velvet curtains. “Xander,” I muttered, “can you get her to the car?”

From the corner of my eye I could see Xander look from me to Angel, then to the stage. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

Buffy was already heaving Willow to her feet. Xander dropped the crossbow, scooped Red up in his arms, and hurried out into the lobby. I heard him kick the outside door open, then a hard click as it closed back. No need for sneaking about now.

Seven forms appeared from behind the curtain, all sporting blonde hair and all dressed in black. Each vampire wore identical black leather dusters. I clenched my jaw and twisted my head to the side, causing my neck to crackle and pop pleasantly. Finally, I get to punch something.

Buffy, Angel, and I spread out as my lookalikes jumped down from the stage and charged towards us. I roared as I allowed my demon to take charge and ran towards them, Buffy and Angel close behind me. One of the not-Spikes raised a gun and started shooting wildly. I heard Angel cry out as a bullet connected with his thigh.

“Angel!” rang out Buffy’s concerned voice.

I paused and saw him drop to one knee. He braced himself with one hand on the ground, the other hand clutching at his injury. Or so I thought. He rose to his feet, his human mask gone, and looked down at the smashed bullet in his hand. The old sod had dug it out of his leg himself! I’m not a big fan of the git, but even I had to admit that was badass.

Angel flicked the gore covered bullet to the side and growled out, “Now you’re pissing me off.”

Angel launched himself forward, using the backs of the dilapidated seats as stairs, then careened into one of the Spikes. Angel landed hard into a seat a moment later when his mark delivered a fierce sidekick that sent Angel flying. 

Buffy was already in action on my right. She shoved the stake end of her Scythe through the heart of one imposter, planting her foot against his chest and bounding off, Scythe in hand, before he collapsed into dust. She landed on one foot, perfectly balanced on top of an armrest, then jumped up to flip above and behind another attacker. She promptly forced the wooden point of the Scythe into his back before she hit the ground. Vamp dust puffed out from the stained carpet as she landed. That was pretty badass too. 

I focused forward and dove into a mirror image of myself, fist first, landing a blow that shattered his nose. He fell backward. I thrust my pointed pool cue into his chest, yanked it out, gave it a twirl, and connected it into the chin of another copy of me. His head shot back and he hit the ground. Not bad for someone the Slayer wanted to bench, yeah? 

The downed vampire flipped to his feet and forced out a laugh. “That was the problem before, huh? You couldn’t fight without your stick?”

“What?” I took in a breath and caught his scent. It was the bloke from the other night. I felt a smile spread across my face. “Oh, you. This is going to be fun.”

At that, my foe came at me again. I raised the pool cue, preparing to block a punch, but he ducked down and caught me with a leg sweep, knocking me to my back. I managed to keep my head from bouncing off the thinly carpeted, concrete floor, but just barely. I felt the stake I had pocketed slip away and heard it roll down the sloped aisle toward the stage. I reached out for it, but was interrupted by the vampire’s black boot rushing toward my face.

“Not this time,” I roared out as I moved my head away at the last possible moment. His boot slammed down next to my ear, sending particles of his dusted buddies floating into the air.

My stake was too far away to both with, but I still had hold of my pool cue. I gave it a swing at the vamp’s knee from my spot on the floor. He jumped over it and took a couple steps back, giving me time to hop to my feet. He must’ve been counting on it. As soon as I was upright, not-Spike slammed his whole body into me, and I stumbled back against the side of a partially flattened row of seats. The bugger kneed me hard right in my sodding rib. I screamed out in pain as the damn thing broke yet again, and my pool cue dropped from my hands. 

“Oh no, did I hurt you? AGAIN.” My twin showed me his fangs as he cackled and backed off of me. I instinctively cradled my injured side with one hand, using the other to grip the wooden armrest to keep from falling again.

“And look, you dropped your little stick.” He bent down to pick up my pool cue. “No stake, no stick. Looks like I win again.”

“Not quite,” I sneered. When he stood back up I drove a piece of the splinted armrest into his black-clad chest. I caught my pool cue in mid-air as his dust fell to the ground. “Smug bastard.”

I turned to my left and saw Angel deliver a clean slice to the neck of the other bleached vampire who attacked him, leaving the body and head in two separate dust piles. I looked to the right and found Buffy finishing off the final attacker with ease.

“Everyone ok?” asked Buffy, wiping some dust from her hands. 

Angel let out an affirmative grunt. I winced, my hand still against my side.

“Same rib?” Buffy asked, concern in her voice once more.

I nodded and switched back into my human face in the same motion. I was about to assure her that I could press on, but I was interrupted by a slow clap that echoed throughout the theater. The three of us turned our attention to the stage as another vampire appeared from behind the once vibrant curtain. He was also dressed in black, sporting a leather duster and my signature locks. He stopped clapping once he reached center-stage, planting his hands on his hips.

“Well, well, well,” he said, staring at me with an amused grin on his face, “If it isn’t Big Bad himself. Gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to come so soon. And yet, here you are wearing a costume. Just like me.”

I squinted at him. “Yeah, ok. Am I supposed to know you?”

“Ouch. That hurts.” He feigned shock, clutching a hand against his heart for emphasis. “I knew you wouldn’t remember me, you selfish prick.”

I felt the gazes of Angel and Buffy, but I didn’t look away from the vampire on stage. “You do look familiar,” I said, tapping a finger to my chin, “only not as attractive as I recall. No wait, I’m thinking about me.”

The vampire threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I forgot how funny you are. Man, I really looked up to you, you know? Then you went and teamed up with HER.” He jutted his chin out toward Buffy. “It’s sick, bro.”

Buffy crossed her arms. “I so don’t have time for this. Just jump down here, we’ll get fighty, you’ll go ‘poof!’, and I can get home in time for The Real Housewives.”

Angel let out a rumbling growl and took a few quick steps toward the stage. 

“Hold up there, Angelus,” my twin warned, grinning wide again. Angel slowed, but continued his approach. Buffy and I followed his lead. 

His grin faded, and he yelled out, “I said STOP!” We paused, but only for a moment. We each took a few more steps forward, and he called down to us, “Three against one doesn’t seem fair, now does it?”

He let out a high pitch whistle, his wicked leer returning. “Let’s even up these odds.” We saw the curtain billow again followed by a pained, muffled scream.


	28. Chapter 28

Buffy, Angel, and I froze in place. Another Spike emerged from behind the curtain, dragging a woman out in front of him. His fingers were clamped into her upper arms. She cried out again through the duct tape gag over her mouth when she saw us. It was Cat. We were 80 feet or so from the stage, but I could see dark trails of running mascara staining her cheeks. Her eyes were full and wet, and her chest heaved as if she had run a marathon. Narrow sections of her brown hair had come loose from her chopsticked bun, and stuck to the sides of her head and neck. Her hands were free, but she clutched them tightly against her stomach.

My jaw clenched and my grip tightened around the pool cue. “Let. Her. Go.” 

“Hmm… nope!” cackled my evil twin. “In fact, let’s invite someone else to the party!” 

He whistled again, and the curtain moved once more as another copy of me shoved a bound and gagged Dawn onto the stage. The push knocked her off balance, and she fell to the stage floor, rolling to the side as she went down to keep from landing face first. Smart move. She kicked about to get up to a sitting position. Her arms were roped in front of her at the wrists, and the knuckles on her right hand were bloodied. Dawn stared at the ring leader, hate gleaming in her eyes. The Spike that had pushed her in grabbed her by the ponytail and yanked, dragging her to center-stage. She flailed her legs in an effort to help push herself along and relieve some of the strain from her scalp. I caught sight of burn marks up and down the vampire’s arm. Holy Water, I guessed. Recent too. He also had a red, swollen knot at the top of his left cheekbone. 

“Boss, let’s eat this bitch now,” the vampire shouted to his leader. He leaned down to Dawn’s ear and said, “The feisty ones taste the best.” 

Dawn tried to hit him with the back of her head, but he moved out of the way and kicked her in the side, sending her to the floor again. She let out a pained breath and squeezed her eyes shut briefly, then resumed her hate-filled stare. I didn’t need to look at Buffy to tell that she was fuming. I could feel the fury radiating off of her. 

“Not yet, moron,” hissed the leader. “We have guests.”

“Saving the snacks for after the show, are you?” I spoke up, trying to keep my voice light, “Planning to build up an appetite?”

“You could say that.” 

Bossman Spike started pacing the length of the stage. He raised his arms and motioned around him, proudly displaying the enormity of the theater. “Nice digs, right? You tend to like these wide open, larger than life spaces. I mean, you spent how long in that old factory? The mansion? I figured a place like this would be right up your alley. You like?”

“That was more Dru’s style.” I wrinkled my nose. “Besides, this is a bit dirty for my taste. Should’ve had your lackeys spruce it up a bit. Honestly, a broom and dustpan would do wonders. And a fresh coat of paint would really brighten up the place. I kept my crypt cleaner than this and it was--” I thought back to my darker days at Sunnydale, listing my head to the side as I considered the vampire on stage. “I do know you. You used to work for me. Part of Lenny’s crew, yeah? Oh, what was your name?” I squished my eyes shut, snapping my fingers into the air. “ Uh, Bruce? No, Bart. Bob? Tim!” 

“Brian!” he bellowed from the stage, stomping his feet like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. “Dammit, my name is BRIAN!”

“Oh yeah, that’s it!” I said pointing at him, “I knew it was something boring. How ya been?”

He roared out, digging both hands into his hair. Do I know how to annoy someone, or what?

“I idolized you, bro!” he yelled down to me. “You were ruthless! Powerful! And then SHE got in the way, and you turned soft. You ABANDONED us! You abandoned the mission. And now you have a, what, a soul?! It’s messed up, bro.”

I stared back at Brian. I had to keep him talking, distracted. I had to give Dawn a chance to finish working her way out of those ropes. 

“And now you’re all grown up with flunkies of your own.” I referred to the two Spikes on stage with a swing of my pool cue. “It was an impressive crew. Really, it was. Bigger than anything I ever put together.” Then, with a smile I added, “Shame we had to kill them all.”

Brian sneered. “It only took a few of us to ruin your life, though, didn’t it?” 

I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he continued, “I saw that car crash on the news. Then that ‘no comment’ crap at the hospital. You were back in town. MY town. I just had to do something to knock you down a peg. That’s when I got it. Me and a couple buddies dressed up and ran around playing ‘Guardian Angel.’ We got this whole celebrity-obsessed city trying to track you down and thank you for being the big hero you are. Then I started recruiting. I had more and more vampires lining up to join. Once this place was eating up any mention of the Guardian Angel of LA, Team Brian turned the whole city against you.”

“Team Brian?” mocked Buffy, “Jeez, you’ve read those Twilight books one time too many. Actually, the movies were probably more your thing, huh? You don’t seem like much of a reader.”

“Stay out of this Slayer!” he hissed. “You don’t know what you’re--”

The burned Spike howled out in pain, drawing the attention of the other two vampires on stage. Dawn had wriggled free and slammed a knife through her captor’s foot and into the wood below. Then a lot of things happened all at once. Dawn ripped off the duct tape gag and rolled under the reaching arms of Brian as he moved to assist his vampire subordinate. When Dawn stabbed his pal, the Spike holding Cat had let go, taking a couple steps to get a view of the chaos. Cat had capitalized on her moment of freedom. She reached up and plucked a chopstick out of her hair, turned, and without hesitation plunged it deep into his chest. She ripped away the gag, taking a couple tentative steps backward toward the edge of the stage. Her hands were up in the air like a shield in front of her. The vampire looked down at the chopstick protruding from his body, then back up to Cat. The bugger winked at her. Bollocks, she missed the heart. He pulled out the chopstick, tossing it to the side, and grabbed Cat again.

Angel, Buffy, and I rushed the stage as soon as Dawn made her move, but we were too far away to do much good. Too far unless you’re the Slayer.

“Spike! Give me the stick!” called Buffy. 

I thrust my pool cue to her. She caught it, took a single step, and heaved it like a javelin at the vampire stalking toward her roommate. He never saw it coming. It impaled him, and he burst into nothingness.

Dawn retrieved the discarded chopstick from the stage floor mid-roll, then hurried back the way she came, ducking under Brian’s grasp once more. She climbed to her feet and stabbed the chopstick through the back of the knifed vampire, directly into his heart. He exploded into dust instantly. Brian seemed to come to his senses as Dawn leaped the 8 feet down from the edge of the stage and out of his reach. He scooped up the knife that was now lying in his former flunky’s dust pile and stalked toward Cat.

“Jump!” I called out, nearing the stage along with Angel and Buffy as Brian continued his approach.

Dawn ran toward Cat as well, reaching both arms up for her. Cat turned, still stunned, and sat down on the stage. She dangled her feet over the edge, nervously looking between Dawn and her charging friends.

“Now!” Buffy yelled, “Jump now!”

Cat pressed both hands down against the wood to prepare to hoist herself down, but those extra couple of seconds had cost her. Brian grabbed her left arm and twisted it behind her just as Cat propelled herself forward. A loud snap rang out, and Cat screamed in agony. Brian hauled her back onto the stage with a quick jerk.

“No!” I cried as we made it to the edge of the stage. 

Buffy stopped to grab hold of her sister and pushed her behind us to get away from the danger. Angel and I took hold of Buffy and leaped effortlessly onto the stage. 

“That’s far enough!” ordered Brian. He released Cat’s arm, but grabbed her by the throat and pulled her to her feet. Her left arm dangled uselessly by her side. Seeing the opportunity for more control, Brian released her neck and caught hold of her left arm again, pulling it tightly behind her. Cat cried out once more.

He positioned Cat so her back was flush against his chest, then held Dawn’s knife to her throat. “Shut up,” Brian hissed into her ear. “We’re leaving now, baby.”

He released Cat’s arm to feel around behind him for an opening in the curtain and found it. He grabbed hold of her again as they disappeared behind it. I could still hear Cat, although her cries had dulled to a frightened whimper.

Angel slashed at the curtain with his sword, shearing away a section large enough for us to walk through single file. I stepped through first.

“Stay back!” Brian commanded, and we slowed but continued our approach.

“You made your point, Brian,” I said evenly, “Now let the girl go.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Let her go? I’m no idiot! She’s the only thing keeping me alive!”

“He’s not wrong,” muttered Buffy, with a stake at the ready.

“Let’s make a deal, then,” I offered, taking a few tentative steps forward with my hands up in front of me. “You leave the girl and take me instead.”

I took a quick glance behind me, noting that Angel and Buffy maintained a pace that left them only a few steps away. I saw that Dawn had climbed back up to the stage too, but stayed several feet behind us. She was holding Xander’s discarded crossbow. 

I turned back to face Brian. “Fair deal, yeah? After all, it’s me that you want. You wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble otherwise.”

Cat swallowed, straining to speak, “Spike, no.”

“SHUT UP,” ordered Brian, tightening his grip. Cat mewled, and arched her back in an effort to relieve some of the pressure on her shoulder. He was getting closer to the side door. 

“Think about it, Brian,” I continued, trying to ignore the fear on Cat’s face as I stepped closer. “Would you rather have a meal or the revenge you crave?”

Brian narrowed his eyes at me, backing up more. “You’d really give up your life for THIS?” He shook Cat a little, causing the knife to nick her. A trickle of red travelled down her neck. 

“Yes,” I answered truthfully, moving forward again. 

“See what I mean?” he mumbled into Cat’s ear. “He’s gone soft.” 

He moved the knife from her neck to a spot at her ribcage, and licked away the trail of her escaping blood. “Mmmm,” he said, looking directly at me, “I can see why you like this one. She tastes as sweet as she smells.” 

Fresh tears fell from Cat’s eyes. She swallowed, then fixed her eyes on mine. She mouthed out, “Just go.”

I fought the urge to pounce on him right there. The door was only a step or two away from him now. I had to convince him quickly. “You’re right, Brian, I have gone soft. Maybe you can beat the bad back into me? I won’t fight it. I’ll come with you.”

Brian laughed as he reached behind him for the back door. “Maybe next time, Spike.” 

“No!” the Slayer cried out from behind me as his fingers found the door’s push bar. 

The door opened, but a look of confusion swept over Brian’s face. He turned to the side, dragging Cat along with him, to meet Xander’s equally as bewildered face on the other side of the door. 

“Uh, hi,” Xander stammered out before delivering a solid blow to Brian’s jaw. 

Brian was caught off guard and released Cat as he staggered backwards a few steps. Cat fell limply to the ground. 

Brian regained his footing as Xander crouched down to Cat’s side. “She’s mine!” he yelled, drawing back his fist.

As soon as Cat hit the ground, I had reached my hand behind me and felt the weight and power of the Scythe in my palm. I let out an exaggerated, “Ahem,” before Brian could swing.

Brian pivoted back toward me, and I shoved the Scythe’s stake deep into his chest. He met my eyes and opened his mouth as if he was trying to tell me something, then exploded into dust. 

Buffy rushed forward to attend to her roommate, hugging Cat against her.

Dawn ran to Xander from behind us, and he stood to swoop her up into his arms. “I thought I lost you for a minute there,” he said softly. 

“Never,” she answered. She gave him a long, needy kiss that made me think their audience should clear the room. 

I crouched down next to Buffy and Cat, clutching at my throbbing rib. Cat was lying on her right side and was cradling her left arm. She was still shaking. 

“It’s ok now,” Buffy said softly, hugging her broken roommate. “It’s over. It’s all over.”


	29. Chapter 29

Xander yawned next to me, then stood up and stretched his arms above his head. “Long night,” he commented, then sat back down, placing his left arm around Dawn. 

We were in the hospital waiting room. Again. Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals? Dawn, Xander, and I sat in a row of uncomfortable, vinyl upholstered chairs. Buffy and Angel sat on what looked like an equally uncomfortable vinyl-covered bench up against the wall to our left. 

I leaned forward to look around Xander. “Hey Little Bit,” I said, getting Dawn’s attention, “how’s the hand?”

She looked down at the bandages over her right knuckles and flexed her fingers a few times. “It’s a little sore, but not bad. How’s the rib?”

“Been better,” I responded, “but it’s been worse too.”

Buffy reached out and laid a hand on her sister’s arm. “What you did was very brave, Dawnie. But not very smart. You could’ve been killed.”

“I only did what I thought was best,” argued Dawn, crossing her arms in front of her. “I tried to drive away like you guys said, but one of them pulled out a freakin’ gun and shot out the tires. When did vampires start using guns anyway?”

She looked between Angel and me. We both just shrugged. 

Dawn huffed, then continued, “Before we could do anything else, they caught up to us and that one vamp pulled Cat out through the window. What did you expect me to do? Run off without her?”

Buffy frowned. “Well, no. I guess not. Still...” She trailed off, sighed, then gave Dawn a small smile. “You really punched him?”

“First I doused him with Holy Water, then tried to stake him, but he knocked it out of my hand. That’s when I punched him.” Dawn relaxed her arms and rubbed at her bandaged knuckles. “I had to do something. I figured they’d either kill us or try to use us as bait, so it was worth a try.”   
“I hate being bait,” muttered Xander.

“Bait doesn’t usually hit so hard,” I commented, “That was quite a left cross back there.”

Xander shrugged off the compliment, but he was grinning ear to ear.

Angel leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Did they come out of the building?” he asked Dawn. 

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered, shaking her head. “We were scooched down in our seats so no one would see us, but I could still see the doors. Those two must’ve been coming back to the building and saw us somehow.”

“They smelled you,” I blurted out, staring down at my boots. It got unusually quiet, and I realized the group was looking at me expectantly. “Oh. Well, you both have a, um, noticeable scent. Distinctive. Two tasty treats like you parked in a dark car, alone? What vampire wouldn’t want a closer look?”

Angel stared into space, getting that distant broody look about him. Buffy wrinkled her nose at me. 

“Just so you know,” she offered, “the whole ‘I smell you’ thing is hella creepy. And stalkery.”

Angel snapped out of his moping long enough to say, “The windows were down. He’s right Buffy.” Well, what do you know? Hell must’ve frozen over.

“Yeah I know,” replied Buffy, rolling her eyes at my boastful expression.

A nurse walked over to us after a few minutes. She told us Cat had a broken arm and had dislocated her shoulder again. Since there was a lot of damage to her shoulder and the muscles and such surrounding it, this go ‘round she would be getting a metal plate and a few screws as souvenirs. She was already on her way to the operating room. The nurse also told us that Willow was awake and asking for us. 

Back at the theater, Willow had passed out at some point while Xander was carrying her back to his car. Xander found his car several feet from where he left it. He saw that Dawn and Cat were gone, the rear tires were flat, and the driver door was open. He said he caught a glimpse of the backdoor of the theater swinging closed and figured the girls either went in or were forced inside. He laid Willow down in the backseat, then set off toward the theater. He told us the backdoor didn’t have an exterior handle or doorknob. That it was one of those “one way only” doors, so someone would have had to open it from the inside. He said he heard yelling coming from the other side of the door. He didn’t want to leave Willow completely alone, but he grabbed a crowbar from the car and planned to pry the door open if the fight came closer. Lucky for us, it did. 

We all piled into Willow’s hospital room. She looked pale and weak, but she was cheerful as ever. She greeted us with an enthusiastic, “Hiya!” then frowned as she scanned our faces. 

“Um. Where’s Cat? Is she ok?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Surgery,” I answered, “but it’s just her arm. She’ll be fine, Red.” Willow’s frown relaxed, and she nodded. 

“Hey Will,” started Xander, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, “does this put you back in the lead for hospital stay time?”

She shook her head. “They’re not going to keep me much longer. Besides,” she closed her left eye and poked her thumb rapidly towards it a couple times as she said, “you’re still a few days ahead from the whole eye squishing thing.”

“Eww,” said Buffy while Xander laughed. 

When the mood turned serious again, Buffy reached over the bedrail and held Willow’s hand. “That spell took a lot out of you, huh?”

“Yeah. It took a lot more power than I prepped for. I was planning to conjure up a nice, tiny ball of sunshine to throw at one or two of them, but when Angel told me there were dozens inside, I… um, I amped it up a little.”

“A little?” I repeated, “You took out at least 20 vampires within seconds, love.” I tilted my head towards Angel. “Nearly fried me and the caveman too, even with the cover.”

Angel glared at me, but didn’t protest. 

Willow’s head sunk into her shoulders. “Oh. Sorry about that guys.”

“Worth it,” I said while Angel mumbled out, “We were fine.”

Xander put a hand to the side of his mouth and stage whispered to Willow, “They needed some alone time anyway.”

Angel directed his glare at Xander this time. I forced a smile as I said, “Looking to add a few more hospital days to that lead of yours, are you Columbo?” 

Xander shook his head. “No, no, no. That one doesn’t work! Peter Falk didn’t wear an eyepatch. He had a glass eye.”

“Keep at it, Harris, and you’ll be shopping for a matching set,” I threatened, giving him a deathly stare. Buffy rolled her eyes at the both of us.

“Now see, that’s a good one,” Xander praised obliviously. He looked contemplative for a moment, then said, “Can you even get a matching set of glass eyes? And if you needed both of them, how would you tell if they matched? What about… Whoa, you look pissed.” 

“And yet, you’re still talking.”

“Oh, right.” He pinched his index finger and thumb together in front of his mouth and made a zipping motion across his lips. “Shutting up.” 

A nurse came in a couple hours later and said Willow had her walking papers. He was giving her instructions about activity restrictions and medication schedules when Buffy’s phone rang. Buffy stepped out into the hall to take it.

She poked her head back in shortly after and announced, “Cat’s out of surgery. We can see her, but she’s in and out. She’ll be pretty groggy, so they don’t want more than two of us in there at a time.” She looked at me. “Want to come with?”

Buffy and I walked into the room and sat down in the chairs at the foot of Cat’s bed. Cat was sleeping peacefully. Her left arm was covered in a cast, running from mid-way up her bicep, into a L shape along the bend of her elbow, and ending at her palm. It was supported by a brand new sling. We sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching her sleep. 

I took my eyes off Cat and turned to Buffy. “Did you see her stake that vampire?” 

Buffy nodded. “She almost got him.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “Bloody chopsticks. Won’t be looking at those the same for a while.”

I bent down to rest my elbow on my knee, but the movement stung at my right side. I winced, and sat back up. My hand instinctively went to my rib. This was getting old.

“Just the one?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I think so. Bloody thing must have a target painted on it.”

“We could probably get someone to wrap it up while we’re here,” suggested Buffy.

I waved it off, relaxing now that the shooting pain dulled. “Not without proof of insurance or a pulse, I’d wager.”

Buffy smiled. “Sounds about right.”

Cat let out a little cough. I sat up on the edge of my chair, ready to jump to her bedside, but Cat stilled and went back to sleep. 

“That sister of yours was brilliant,” I commented, resting my back against the seat again. “You two been training again, have you?”

“Not for a long time,” Buffy answered, shaking her head. “I think she’s been doing one of those self-defense workout classes though.” Buffy quirked her head, the corners of her mouth turning up a little. “Maybe I should get her to show me a few moves.”

It made my side ache, but I laughed at that. Especially after witnessing the aerial staking act she did back in the theater. “You and me both, Slayer.”

We let the room grow quiet and stay that way. A nurse came in and pushed some clear liquid into the IV line. Another came in to empty and refill the water jug at Cat’s bedside. The clock on the wall ticked off another 20 minutes before Buffy broke the comfortable silence.

“I was scared Spike.” 

I frowned and turned my head to her. She was hugging her arms over her chest, staring at her sleeping roommate. I let my eyes travel to Cat, then looked back to Buffy.

“I wish I could say otherwise,” I nearly whispered, putting a hand on the armrest of Buffy’s chair, “but I thought she was a goner for a minute there too.”

Buffy unfurled her arms and moved her hand to top mine. I looked down at it for a second, then back to her. She kept her eyes fixed on the hospital bed for a few seconds more, then turned them on me. 

“I wasn’t talking about Cat.”

I twisted my hand under Buffy’s so our palms met, and I closed my fingers around her hand. “Nothing to worry about. Just a rib. Another warm bath couldn’t hurt though.” I smiled, but let it fall when I saw her serious expression. “Hey, what’s wrong, love?”

“You were gone all day, all night. For all I knew you could’ve been dead,” she explained, emotion starting to strangle her voice as she thought back to the previous day. Had that only been a day ago? 

She looked up to the ceiling, tucked some loose hair behind her ear with her free hand, then cleared her throat and looked back to me. “I was more scared than I’ve been in a long time. And now? Now I’m scared all over again.”

“Um, are we talking about Cat now? Because she’s going to be right as rain, pet.”

She smiled and shook her head. 

“Care to fill me in?” I asked, tilting my head.

She stared at me for a minute, then looked away and stammered, “I, um. I think, I mean, I might... I could be, um. God, why is this so awkward?” Buffy bowed her head to view our gripping hands, giving mine a little squeeze. Without lifting her head, those green eyes looked up at me, and I understood. 

“Oh.” My eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “Oh! Uh, you mean you, uh...” Real eloquent, yeah? Bloody poet, I am. 

I came back to my senses and squeezed back. She smiled at my realization. Bloody hell, it was beautiful. I had questions of course, like “What now?” and “What the hell took you so long?”, but in that moment I just wanted to watch that glowing smile. 

“Will you guys hurry up and kiss already, so I can stop pretending to be asleep?” Cat complained from the bed, a slight slur to her voice. She had one eye open and was peeking out at us.

Buffy flushed and released my hand. She got up and hurried to her roommate’s bedside. I followed her.

“Hey girlie,” Buffy said as she squatted down to Cat’s eye level. 

Cat gave her a drowsy smile, then looked over to me when I said, “Hi there kitten.”

“Hi guys,” she answered, quickly followed by a yawn. She looked down at her casted, sling-clad arm. “Dammit,” she groaned, “I just got rid of this fucking thing.”

“At least it was the same arm,” I offered. She didn’t see the silver lining.

Cat raised her head from her pillow, her eyes darting from me to Buffy and back. “So? Did we win?” 

Buffy and I nodded. “Good,” Cat said, relaxing back into the bed. Her eyelids started growing heavy as she confessed, “I don’t think I want to be a ‘Scooby’ anymore.”

“I’ll have Xander tear up that membership card he was working on,” joked Buffy, stroking her hand over Cat’s hair.

“Poor guy,” I said with mock pity, “It’ll break his little heart.”

Cat giggled drunkenly. “I wouldn’t want to do that. Ok, I’ll stay in. Do I get hazard pay?”

Buffy gave her a nod. “Triple what we’re paying you now.”

“Ha fucking ha,” mumbled Cat as the sleep she’d been fighting finally won.


	30. Chapter 30

Cat and Willow were both discharged that day, within a few hours of each other. Xander, Dawn, and Will took a cab back to Buffy’s flat. Then Xander returned in Willow’s car once Cat was released. I had to duck and cover again to stay out of the sunlight for the drive home. But, Xander had the foresight to grab Buffy’s comforter for Angel and me to hide under. Good thing too, because I still didn’t have my duster. And probably wouldn’t be able to pull it out of Buffy’s closet for a while longer. Other than a few more of Xander’s cuddling jokes at our expense, the drive from the hospital was much more bearable this time. Xander dropped us off at the flat, then took Angel back to his place.

When Xander returned we gathered in the living room to watch the latest coverage of the “Fallen Angel of LA.” Apparently those two blokes that caught Dawn and Cat had been busy. About an hour before we arrived at the theater, one Spike was at the North end of the city, shattering car windows parked up and down the street while the other had gone South to break into a large electronics store and smash everything inside. Both events were caught on tape. Imagine that. But, they cocked it up. The gits hit both places at the same time, and the tapes were each time stamped to prove it. The reporter that had chased me down at the hospital was interviewing the head of the LAPD gang task force, asking about a potential “Fallen Angel” crew. 

“Anyone hungry?” Buffy asked, leaving the seat next to me on the couch to head into the kitchen. “I’ll make sandwiches.”

Cat yelled “Yes!” into my right ear so loud that I had to lean away a little. Dawn and Willow took up the living chairs, while Xander sat on the floor between them. He had his right arm slung across Dawn’s crossed legs. 

“Two please,” Xander said and threw out two fingers from their perch on Dawn’s knee. 

Buffy returned with a plate full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and placed them on the coffee table. She sat back down next to me, then handed me a warm mug of fresh blood. 

“Figured you’d want something too,” she explained.

“Cheers, love.”

I reached up to accept the mug with my right hand, but winced. So, Buffy pulled the cup back and sat down. She then handed the mug to me so I didn’t have to strain. Thoughtful, this one. I lifted my left arm to rest along the back of the couch, and Buffy snuggled up against me a little before biting into her meal. Dawn and Willow noticed. I saw them exchange knowing glances with each other, both trying to hide a smile.

“You know,” started Willow, resuming as close to a neutral expression as she could manage, “I bet the news will bring in loads of technology and experts to compare all the Fallen Angel footage now. They’ll find tons of inconsistencies.”

“Do you think they’ll give the bad guys credit for all the good stuff they did too?” asked Xander around a mouthful of peanut butter. He swallowed. “I mean, it’d be hard for the LAPD to admit that a street gang started out by saving puppies and helping little old ladies cross the street.”

Cat absently scratched at her neck, which was probably irritated from the strap of her sling. “Even if they don’t, they’ll still use the ‘real Guardian Angel’ as scapegoat. Spike’s still going to be blamed for starting the whole thing. Good or not, the public won’t care.” She looked over at me with an exaggerated pout that carried over to her voice as she said, “Looks like you’re stuck being boring old William for a while.”

Xander snickered. Cat reached for a sandwich and was about to take a bite when I shrugged, saying. “It could be worse. I could’ve been, I don’t know, ‘Ginger’ for example.”

Cat froze. Eyes wide, mouth open, sandwich held up in the air. At first only her eyes shot to me. She then turned quickly to Xander, who was biting his lip to keep away his signature goofball smile.

Buffy elbowed me in the side sharply. “Ow! Watch the ribs, Slayer. Don’t want to be crippled on both sides.”

“You’re fine, remember?” teased Buffy.

“Yeah, well, I lied,” I confessed.

I heard Willow mumble “Uh oh,” so I turned back around just as Cat smashed an open-faced PB and J into my face. 

“Pratt!” yelled Cat, laughing hysterically.

Willow and Dawn tried to stifle laughs at first, but they roared out just as loud as everyone else despite my heated glares. I pulled the gooey slice of bread from my face and slapped it onto the nearly empty sandwich plate. Xander was literally rolling on the floor, clutching his sides, laughing. Buffy cleared her throat and hid her mouth with her hand, trying to sober up. It didn’t work.

I stood up and took another displeased look at my friends. Damn if I didn’t start laughing too. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” I said after a minute, shaking my head.

I got a washcloth out of the linen closet and took it into the bathroom. I scraped the goop away with a finger, then ran the warm, soapy cloth over my face. I glanced up into the mirror, which reflected the wall behind me. Why do people even need these anyway? I don’t need to see my bloody face to know it’s there. 

When I finished, I left the brown and purple stained washcloth in the sink and wandered back into the living room. Cat gave me a guilty look over her shoulder as I entered.

“I hear peanut oil is good for the skin,” joked Xander. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, motioning with my hand for Buffy to scoot over next to Cat.

Buffy and Cat both rolled their eyes, but Buffy moved over anyway. I sat down and listened to the Scoobies prattle on about trivial things. It made me smile. A little. Eventually, Cat suggested we watch a movie to help us take our minds off the stress of the day. No sodding romantic comedies this time, though. Xander found a Bruce Lee DVD and put it on. I gave Xander a thankful nod, and he tipped his chin in response.

Halfway through the movie, Buffy settled in close to me, careful not to apply pressure to my rib. I put my arm around her. We sat like that for a few minutes, then she moved her hand on my knee.

“So,” she nearly whispered, her eyes still on the screen, “are you ready for that beer?”

“Ready when you are, love.”


End file.
